Krissy's Monster Part 2
by Happygoddess2003
Summary: This continues Krissy's story, with the boys bringing her back to live with them at the bunker. It won't be easy for her. Or them. Struggles, angst, and revenge ahead, although this will be a 3 Part Series. *caution trigger for rape and a parental discipline* Reading Part 1 will help. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Krissy was asleep in the back of Baby, almost from the second Sam had placed her in the back seat she had been out like a light. And man, Sam was grateful. After the scene at the hospital he needed some time to sort his thoughts. He was trying to use his logical mind to process his emotional feelings, and that just didn't work for him. This whole situation with Gus was causing him to blur the lines he had so carefully spent his whole life compartmentalizing. He was heartbroken for her, and he was pissed as fuck at her refusal to follow the few simple rules he and Dean had set down for her. He knew he would have to be careful with her, and to warn his less-than-always-aware brother NEVER to give her the accidental impression that what happened to her was somehow her fault for not following their rules. He knew her. He knew she was already blaming herself. He had an incredible intuition where she was concerned. From the first time he heard her voice on Bobby's phone, he knew it was his job to find her and help her. That little voice inside of him screamed to hurry before she did something stupid back then, and if it weren't for his lack of attention to her recently, paired with her incredible ability of lying (outshined only by Dean), he would have been able to save her this time. It killed him that she probably had been counting on his instinct to save her (or her ego to save herself) – and he didn't. He had NO CLUE. No intuition. He would not make that mistake again.

He ran into the market for groceries and to fill Krissy's prescriptions , (so many, he thought as he peered into the overflowing bag he was carrying). Pills for pain, pills to remember, pills to forget, pills to help the pills that helped you forget. He told himself this was just for now, for the time being to get her through. God, when he looked back he would remember how naïve he had been. As if pills would just make it go away until she was able to have a good old "Sammy and Gus" heart-to-heart. He had learned so much since then.

He carried the bags full of fresh vegetables, chicken, water, and a few extras: ice cream and chocolate. He felt absolutely out of his element on every level, but he would figure this out. He was Sam Fucking Winchester. How complicated could a 16 year old girl (who hunted monsters) being forced to live with the two most overprotective people she hated(loved) after a violent sexual assault be? Sam had the brains to know it would be painfully difficult and lucky for him he did think that or everything that followed would have crushed his heart into a million pieces.

He began making a mental list of things he had to do. He had piles of paperwork from the hospital social workers – the nice helpers who expected a call from him that would never come. Names of people Gus would never see. "The Life" didn't allow them that sort of interaction with people. Too dangerous and he knew she knew that. He knew she would never call them regardless. He and Dean would do everything in their power to help her heal, possibly making a call to Jody would give them some insight. He would do whatever he had to do. But that was for later… first things first.

She hadn't spoken a word since he carried her into the E.R. He knew she was exhausted, afraid, and angry (mostly at him and Dean for bringing her back with them). He would adjust her attitude on that, and he would help her adjust to her new life. It was the rage he radiated toward whoever did this to her that he knew he had to get a grip on. If he didn't, then he would be useless at helping her come back from this. As they pulled up to the bunker, Dean glanced over to him with a nod, a silent pact that they were all in.

He scooped her up, impossibly trying to not jostle or hurt her too much. She had so many broken/stitched/bruised/swollen/cast on her that it would have been easier to point out the areas that were not injured. Short list. Gus began to open her eyes and speak, but Sam hushed her. "Time for a real bed for you, little one. I'll get you settled as fast as I can," he murmured to her. He pressed his lips to her temple as he laid her temporarily on the couch. She stubbornly held to the back edge of his plaid shirt. He turned and looked down softly at her automatically, kneeling beside her. She barely looked like his sassy girl. He reached out with his right hand and pushed her hair back from her face, surprised to see even more bruises had blossomed high across her forehead. "What, honey – I need to get your stuff from the car," he said softly. She licked her chapped lips (reminding him to get something to take care of that) and spoke-moaned barely above a whisper to him. "Hurts, Sammy. Have to pee. Hurts," she breathed out. He held his hand on her head and told her he would be back in a flash to help with that. She gave a nod and leaned back, closing her good eye. He raced to get her meds and would leave the rest for later.

"Dean, I need to get her settled, then I'll be back to help," he explained hurriedly. "Dude, just take care of our sister," Dean answered. Sam slammed the door with his arms full and headed back.

He found Krissy exactly where he had left her, except she was softly crying and speaking in whispers to herself. Tossing his armload, he rushed to her side. "Hey – shhh – don't cry Gus I'm right here, see?" he said, giving her hand a squeeze. "Please don't cry, tell me what's wrong, baby? Tell me – I have your medicine right here." He knew he was coddling her. Hell, he WANTED to coddle her right now. He reached for her pill bag, but she stopped him. "Noooo, Sam," she whimpered in a very un-Krissy-like way. She pointed below her body. "Look what I diiiiid – I peed all over myself and your man-bunker couch! I couldn't hold it and I tried to get up…" Sam hid his smile at the adorable childlike way she was speaking and the horror she displayed at her own failure. She looked at him with genuine sadness. "I ruined your nice man-bunker couch," she stated plainly. Same let his smile come. "Oh, you mean this piece of shit? Aw, honey, we were getting ready to throw this thing out next week," he lied. "Tell you what, you and me and Dean will go pick out a brand new FAMILY couch in a few weeks, okay?" She tried to smile but her lip was bleeding again. He reached up and pressed the edge of his cuff on it.

"Mmmm'kay, Sam, but I did try to get up to …" she began. He leveled his index finger at her and spoke firmly. "Listen to me, G., you do not try moving yourself around alone, do you understand? You wait for Dean or me to come and help you. Do. You. Hear. Me?" He spoke slowly and calmly, not wanting to scare her but wanting to make himself clear. "Yeeeeh, I hear you Saaaam," she whined. "But I donn' wann' help. Wanna do it my own self." He noticed she was speaking very childlike to him, beyond what he thought to begin with, but he did not drop his look. "Well, that's just too fucking bad. Those are the rules," he said with finality. "Make m'own rules Sammy – you aren't the boss of me," she argued pitifully. Then he did smile, dimples popping into each cheek and changing his look completely. "That, my darling, is where you are so very wrong. Less talk, more sleep. Let's get you cleaned up and into your bed." He lifted her and carried her down the hall to the room across from his. He headed for the bathroom and quickly washed her up and changed her into one of his tees. Her bandages would need changed tomorrow, but for now he got her to take her meds and tucked the blankets around her, leaving the small desk lamp on for her safety. Ten minutes later he was fast asleep across his bed sideways, boots still on.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't own anything Supernatural… hope you're enjoying this as much as I am! Tried to mix lots of feels into this chapter…

Chapter 2

Sam awoke with a start to perfect silence. He looked guiltily to the clock that read 9:45AM. Shit – they had all slept through Krissy's morning meds. He needed to make a schedule for, like, everything. After he brushed his teeth and threw water on his face he headed over to Gus' room.

He strode in expecting to see her sleeping body on the bed, but instead found a mess of twisted sheets and blankets. His finely tuned ears picked up a sound he recognized but couldn't put his finger on – and it was coming from the bathroom.

The door was slightly ajar so he pushed it open with a semi-angry jolt. "Gus, I told you not to move without Dean or I with you didn't I, he stated, filling the doorway with his frame. Krissy was half leaning on the sink, pale as a ghost with a small smile on her face. He saw how glassy her eye was when she turned to face him. In her good hand she held a pair of scissors and on the floor was a cloud of dark hair surrounding her feet. She had managed to cut off most of her beautiful dark brown hair, except for one spot she couldn't reach. The small smile on her face was a mask of pain that reached up to her glassy eye… Sam stood frozen for a moment, taking it all in and calculating to himself what was happening and what he should do.

He stepped forward slowly, speaking calmly but firmly to her. "Gus, here, I need those scissors from you right now," he ordered. "How the hell did you get yourself out of bed? Sit down before you fall down!" he said, raising his voice. Krissy stared up at him with an eye that didn't see past his face. "Sammy, help me fix my hair," she asked quietly while still holding the scissors. Sam noticed Dean had come in the bathroom and was standing next to him, hands on his temples. Her hair on the floor stuck to the bottoms of his socks and he wanted to throw something. Sam broke out and took action. "Ok, Gus, sit your ass down NOW" he said, taking the scissors from her hand while putting an arm around her waist and setting her on the toilet lid. She looked down and he saw tears leaking from her eyes while she was whispering to herself. Where the hell did she find scissors? WHY would she do this to herself? Gus loved her hair. She loved when he would run his fingers through it when she couldn't sleep. He sat on the floor in front of her and looked up at her. His eyes furrowed and his lips grew tight – he didn't see anything in that face that reflected his girl. He tried to hone in on her whispers but they were just too soft to make out. "Hey Gus, honey, there's no need to cry. Look at me," he urged while placing a hand under her chin. "I'm sorry if I scared you when I yelled, "he said apologetically. He reached up and placed both hands on the sides of her head and spoke directly into her face while Dean rubbed her back in small circles. He carefully adjusted his tone to strong but not loud. "Krissy Chambers Winchester, you look at me right now young lady. NOW. Use your words and tell me what you're saying. I cannot understand that whispering!" Krissy looked at him and he saw that she was there, Gus, there she was! Okay, now they were getting somewhere. She was pale as a sheet as she returned his gaze. Her voice was quiet as she began, but it quickly rose to a high pitched scream…He and Dean heard her quite clearly say, "Cut it off, cut it all off…DO IT please Sammy," she pleaded softly. "He got me by my hair , this fucking hair, and I want it ALL OFF DO YOU HEAR ME"? She made no noise crying, but her shoulders shook and Sam knew it had to be hurting with that broken collar bone. He put his forehead to hers and wiped the tears that were silently trailing down her face before he answered her. "Gus, I want you to try to calm down with me okay? You're gonna make yourself sick. There's no need to shout here, I promise we will help you, honey. Now - in and out with me, one…two…three…that's my good girl," he spoke softly to her, still resting his head to hers. Dean handed her a small glass of water and told her to drink it all down. God, it was killing him. Some asshole was walking the streets and he was handing out glasses of water. He went from wanting to throw something to wanting to kill someone. Still, he kept his cool. Sam lifted her chin and picked up the scissors. Without a second thought he lopped off the remaining long curls from the side of her head. Now she looked like a pixie, even younger than she was. For someone so out of it, she actually did a pretty good job, he thought to himself. He handed the scissors to Dean and they had that creepy silent conversation to remove anything sharp from around her for the time being. They had already planned on doing that, but underestimated her being able to move herself around. She was stubborn and she didn't like to be told what to do. Sam sighed, knowing he had a huge amount of work ahead of him and would probably have Gus fighting him on every turn. "Okay, little pixie, time to get some medicine and food in you. We can clean this mess up after, when we rearrange your room," he said with a small smile but a firm look at her. God, she was so pale and fragile sitting there in his white tee that went down past her knees. He scooped her up to take to the kitchen. She whispered in his ear, "Umm…. I gotta pee again, Sam." "Really?", he thought. He dutifully lifted the lid and put her down on the seat while sliding her panties out of the way. She didn't seem afraid or bothered by him doing this, so he took that as a good sign. He never realized how much one little twerp went to the bathroom until the past few days. He chuckled to himself, big hunter that he was, and knew he would be leaving this part out of his journal for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I own nothing Supernatural. I'll have additional notes for you at the end

Chapter 3

Krissy sat at the kitchen table studying Sam intently. He was busy cracking eggs and cutting fruit and making food that she had no intention of eating. She didn't eat in the morning and hadn't in years. There was nobody to tell her otherwise so she adopted it as one of her "things". In this moment, Big Krissy was in charge. She didn't remember exactly when she changed inside, only that something had occurred during the rape. At one point she distinctly remembered detaching her mind from the horrors she was experiencing in her body. And then after, there was Big Krissy and Little Krissy. Big Krissy told Sam and Dean to fuck off and Little Krissy clung to Sam and cried. Big Krissy did not cry. Sometimes Little would sneak in and Krissy would find tears leaking from her eyes without even connecting a feeling with them.

Most of all, Big Krissy did not want to be at this kitchen table in a bunker with the two biggest tools she knew. But it was what it was and it was as real and true right now as the pile of hair that had lain at her feel less than an hour ago.

Sam knew she was staring. He looked over and caught her eye. Surprisingly, she didn't drop her look or shift uncomfortably in her chair. After all the emotions and crying in the bathroom, he wasn't sure what to make of her. She was all over the map emotionally but expected that. He knew that would be normal for as long as she worked through her trauma, but it was like one minute she was defiant and clever, and the next she was totally different, clingy and emotional. He carried two steaming plates full of fruit, scrambled eggs, and bacon and put them on the table along with two glasses of milk. ("Milk – REALLY?" Krissy thought.) He sat alongside her and patiently waited for her to speak. Instead, she continued to (study?) him…

"Got something you wanna say to me, Gus?" he asked conversationally.

Krissy looked at him, trying to decide how best to approach him. Without the pain meds she had some clarity but fuck wow she hurt inside and out. A light bulb went on. She smiled her split lip smile and began.

"Yes, I have something to say and I hope you hear me clearly," she began. Sam's eyes honed in on hers and locked them in. He simultaneously watched her body language and listened for her tone of voice, ready to take in any information she may willingly or unwillingly give him that he could use to help her. He lifted his chin as he grabbed his fork, motioning for her to do the same and dig in. She continued to smile as she spoke. "Oh, I'm not eating that, Sammy. I'm not a morning eater," she said, hoping to take control of the conversation and set the tone.

He raised an eyebrow and gave her his best fake smile (he figured turn about was fair play right now) before he spoke. He wanted to set the tone for their conversation as well. "It's not the morning, Gus. It's almost one in the afternoon. You missed your morning meds, instead deciding to cut off all your hair. And okay, you explained that to me, which is why I helped you. But now it's time for you to eat, take your meds, and get cleaned up. We have a shit ton to do today so pick up that fork," he said firmly, taking in the look on her face combined with the absence of her long hair. His intuition was on fire about her. Something was definitely off with her big time. She was entirely different than the girl who was begging for him to finish the job of cutting off the rest of her hair because she hated herself. She said she hated HERSELF, Sam thought sadly. The girl in front of him seemed more – together. She was acting as if nothing had happened. A light bulb went off for him as well. Denial. She was so far into herself that she had just pushed it all down. He and Dean were no strangers to the "denial train", and he knew the danger of riding it for too long. He was still shocked and concerned at the vast swings her personality was taking. God knows he was trying, and so was Dean. He was relieved that Dean was busy going through her room and removing anything they would consider a danger to her. His eyes clouded with worry.

Her swollen eye was a blooming black rose, rising up above her eyebrow and spreading down to her cheekbone. Her other beautiful brown eye met his easily, even casually. She nudged the fork off the table and it danced across the floor. "And I don't drink milk," she said. Sam took in a breath, ready to straighten her ass out, but she hurriedly cut in to continue, overrunning him. "I don't want to talk about breakfast, Sam. I want to say thank you. Thank you for coming and checking on me and for taking care of me through this. It means a lot. And I want to say how sorry I am. For keeping secrets and ignoring you. For not keeping my end of our deal. I was wrong and I am sorry… and Dean, too. He's been great. Really… and I'm just ready to move on with my life. I'd like you to help me find a new place. You know, closer…" she finished with a flourish.

Sam took a breath and pushed himself back in his chair, pausing to pick up the fork and placing it back on the table. This gave him an extra bit of time to streamline his thoughts before they came out of his mouth. Then he began.

"First of all Krissy, let's get one thing straight right now. You already have a new place. What part of adopted younger sister don't you understand? All your paperwork makes you our sister. In any jurisdiction, we are a family, and I am your legal guardian. You are living here with Dean and I permanently and that is not changing one iota," he said evenly, working hard to keep his voice relaxed. He was furious that she thought she could just apologize, pretend she wasn't brutally raped, and then ask him for his help finding her a new place where she would live alone. Oh, HELL NO.

His voice tightened as he continued. "Secondly, you are not in charge here in any way. You do not tell Dean or me what to do. WE tell YOU what to do, and you damn well better do it or that's a conversation you really won't want to have with me. You will speak respectfully to us as we do to you. Again, you do what we say when we ask you – because there's a reason for that. We take care of you. Your days of being alone taking care of yourself are done. Over. Got it?" He reached out quickly to touch her hand and she automatically shrunk back from him. Shit. He had moved too fast toward her. He pulled back and slowly reached to touch her knee instead.

"We love you, Gus. I love you. I know it won't be easy to get used to, but from now on, I'M the boss, not you. I cannot believe you thought I would just accept that little speech you just gave, and somehow I would cave and then take you out apartment hunting! Are you fucking kidding me?" He finished with his hand lightly on her knee but a firm glare in his eyes.

His perfect hearing picked up her muttering something under her breath. He straightened up in his chair and leaned forward – "What's that? No talking under our breath to me, Gus, understand? Now, what were you saying"? he asked again. Krissy gave him a sour look. "I was wondering when you turned into such an asshole," she said slow and deliberately. Sam's face broke out into a full-fledged Sam Winchester dimpled smile. His eyes sparkled with humor as he replied, "Oh, honey, I've always been an asshole. You just haven't been paying attention. You were too busy taking my love for granted and taking advantage of my affection for you, so you mistook my kindness for weakness. You thought I was easy to manipulate, and honestly to a certain extent, you were right and you did and that was very wrong of you. I will NOT allow that behavior any more, ya got it? Don't try me on this, little one. Understand me?"

Krissy didn't say a word. She moved her hand over to the fork and began to slowly push it toward the edge of the table. Faster than she thought humanly possible, Sam was holding all the silverware in his ginormous hand. He admonished her, "Uh-unh, none of that, unless you want to be treated like a child. And in that case, Gus, keep it up. Doesn't matter to me, baby. Your choice," he advised.

"I don't eat in the morning, "she said, suddenly sounding sulky and looking very tired and pale. Sam was sure she had to be in a world of pain, he had no idea how she was pushing through it to get into this with him. "Well, you do now," Sam declared. "As a matter of fact, you eat in the morning, noon, and evening. " She sent him dagger eyes. "I won't." she said stubbornly, beginning to sound just a tinge whiny. Sam observed and sighed, not wanting to have to go to this extreme with her. "You WILL, young lady, or I will take you right back to that hospital for nutritional counseling. You want that? Do you? I'm asking you a question Gus, now answer it. I'm not fucking around with this," he warned.

Krissy froze. She felt Big Krissy's foundation begin to crumble. She looked at Sam and hated herself for her quivering lip as she spoke. "No, I don't want that, ok? At least can I just have this fruit for now"? she asked, picking up a square of cantaloupe and carefully popping it into her mouth. Sam considered that she agreed to follow his rules, and again noticed her demeanor had changed back to the more compliant, younger sounding eager-to-please girl. He could work with that. It was a start. "Yeah, pixie queen, eat your fruit so you can get back on a med schedule. And I need to clean and check those ("bites" he thought darkly) cuts on your. So move your ass," he said, finishing with a smile.

Krissy pushed herself up from the chair and reached for him. He caught her around the waist and lifted her up and pulled her close. She was so scared and she wanted to feel safe. Sam kept her safe. He said so. He felt her sit on his knee, resting her head on his shoulder for a long time and making a wet patch where her face was. She let him hold her and tell her how everything would be alright and that she was safe and he would never let anything or anyone ever hurt her again. In that moment, Little Krissy let herself believe him. She trusted that he would keep her safe.

 **A/N: Krissy does not have a split personality. She's just struggling. It's not uncommon in times of trauma for people to protect themselves in different ways, so what Krissy is doing is using her "Big Krissy" to try to just push past it, while the "Little Krissy" is feeling all that pain and want to express everything and not pretend. They are both Krissy and at some point it will all come together in a fabulous way. I promise… just wanted to explain for future chapters…. And our man Sam knows something's up…. XOXO**


	4. Chapter 4

Hi guys… thanks for the feedback and for reading! I think this may be the longest chapter so far… Some good breakthrough moments here! Hope you like…Shout out to Hailstorm3 for being my confidence booster…. She's a great writer! Check out her stories.

Chapter 4

Sam's face was stone. "I have all night," he said calmly.

Krissy stared at the plate set before her. It was a nice plate. Chicken, broccoli with cheese and a baked potato stared at her. A glass of untouched chocolate milk completed the setting.

"So do I," she retorted.

She hadn't eaten in five days. Not really since the drive to the hospital, and before that – well, who knew? It could have been ramen and Oreos every night. But this was about so much more than the food. She was trying to keep control of what was left of herself … Sam knew that even if she didn't.

He also knew she had to eat. He was calling bullshit on this. He had threatened to take her back to the hospital the first morning she refused and that motivated her to take a few bites, but since then there had been nothing. He had his fill of her defiant, obnoxious behavior. It took A LOT to get Sam Winchester this angry, but once he reached that point, well… he was ready to do whatever he had to do to get Krissy to fall into line; otherwise she would never get better. He wanted nothing more than to see that happen, but yelling and threatening wasn't working, either.

He looked over at her and was appalled. Her hair was cute cut short, but it had no shine. Her skin was pallid and she had a dark shadow under her one good eye. Her cheekbones were prominent and her lips chapped, especially where it was split and trying to heal. Her body was just so tiny. He and Dean had put everything on hold until they were sure she was in a safe place in her head and body. Nowhere near there.

Sam had begun sleeping on a recliner next to her bed after the second night. The up and down was running him ragged, so he made the decision to drag the chair parallel to her bed instead. It was becoming their routine. She would ignore, argue, and give him ten kinds of shit during the day, but when the night came she would ask him in her small voice if he would stay with her until she fell asleep. Sam swore she even looked younger when she asked. Now, at the end of day six, he had experienced quite enough of this sixteen year old "daytime tyrant" behavior. It was time to step it up and change his game.

He was doing everything in his power to be patient and helpful. But she wouldn't fucking let him. He knew he had to be sensitive to the trauma she carried from the rape and the beating she took with it. She looked like she had been dragged through hell. And he had seen the real hell, so that was saying something. It took both he and Dean to get her wounds cleaned and bandaged, though she fought them tooth and nail. No matter how Sam broached the subject of changing her dressings, the end result was still the same – he and Dean subduing her until all her fight was gone, totally spent. Only then could Sam carefully clean and re-wrap the cuts, bites, and bruises on her body. It was almost as if she didn't think she deserved to be cared for. It was all Sam could do to keep his rage under control when he cleaned her up. He was worried about that bite on her neck; it looked particularly oozy and thought she would need another round of antibiotics. After he was finished, she would revert to the younger sounding, crying-prone girl who would not let Sam out of her sight.

He would recline next to her after dutifully (but sulkily) taking her medication for sleep and anxiety/PTSD. She would eventually fall into a fitful sleep. Usually, after she took those meds but before she fell asleep, she would talk to him about the assault and what happened to her. Sam would type or scribble her words and thoughts downs as she poured her heart out to him, twisting the bottom of his flannel in her hands as she shook and cried. Sometimes Sam would make her slow down, or stop totally to drink water or do breathing with him. Last night she tried lifting herself from her bed to move next to him, so he easily pulled her onto his lap where she sat with her head down, whispering into his chest in that sing-songish voice the horrible images of what was done to her. . During that hammock between sleep and awake where there is only truth, she would tell him - in detail. Sam had to remind himself that this was his choice, to be her guardian. Her listener. Her protector. His temples were pounding with frothy rage and disgust at her words, yet his face remained a complete mask, nodding his encouragement and stroking her now Tinkerbell-ish hair. She fell asleep like that each night, no matter if in bed or (new on this night) his lap with his hands in her hair soothing her. He felt so useless. It was all he could do, so he did it. He nodded and he stroked her hair and he wiped her tears. Then, he would meet Dean in the library and recount her latest revelations and they would continue to fill out the timeline as best they could.

Sam was prepared now, though. He wouldn't allow her behavior to continue beyond today. What sort of a brother would he be if he did? She had been meeting him head-on, and he had unwittingly allowed her to pull him into a power struggle that, as far as he and Dean would normally be concerned -shouldn't even exist. This revelation caused him to think – ahead. Sam was a very good chess player. The move he needed to make was so simple he couldn't believe he'd missed it to begin with.

He sat next to her with her plate of untouched food in front of her. He looked at her straight on, no beating around the bush any more. "Okay, Gus, here's the thing"… pause…breath…"What do you want?" He kept his eyes leveled at her, clearly expecting an answer. A minute passed. He kept hold.

She was surprised. Shit. Sam Fucking Nerdo surprised her. "Okay, Dr. Phil…" she began.

He slowly raised his hand palm out to shut her off. He knew fast movements scared her now. She had told him as much by the way she would jerk and jump at sudden movements. She had developed a "startle reflex", which was very common after an attack. It might eventually fade or it might always be there in her.

From the look he was giving her combined with his upraised hand, Krissy shut up. He now had her full attention and he hadn't even raised his voice. Again he asked her "What. Do. You. Want?"

She closed her mouth and took the lip balm from his outreached hand and used it on her healing lip. She had to look away from him. She knew she was acting so terrible. She was angry and scared and didn't know how to find the words to tell him. She was ready to say fuck off for the four hundredth time this week, but instead she was shocked when she honestly said, " Uhhhh…..I don't know. I don't. You … and Dean…you…you…GAAH!" she managed to strangle out, frustrated.

Sam just kept looking at her, pacing himself and taking in all the non-verbals she was screaming at him to acknowledge. To know her and to understand her. He cupped the side of her head, unable to withhold the comfort she was asking for so obviously. Face to face he said to her one last time: "What do you want, Gus?"

She could feel Sam's undeniable love for her and it was comforting and terrifying at the same time. His eyes encouraged her to try again, so she did.

"You and Dean, you never asked me. Not once. You just – did everything without asking me anything. So, I don't know what you want to hear, Sam," she said plainly.

"I want to hear the truth. Just tell me the truth."

For the first time since she knew they weren't coming to save her, she felt something rise up inside. He could see it in her eyes, and once again he found himself nodding to her encouragingly.

"I want my dad. I want to be brave again. I want to be alone and not your sister, because you WILL leave me, Sammy. You will promise and you will leave because everyone I love dies and leaves. Get away from me while you can. I should just wear a black robe and carry a sickle with me." She let out a long breath. "I want to be the person I was before I was… you know…" she trailed off.

"Raped?" Sam said. "It's okay to say rape pixie." She looked down. No. No it wasn't.

He expected this to be difficult. He had not factored in HIS pain. Oh my fucking God. He also had not factored in that drawing her out would be so simple. He knew he had to press her further, although he didn't want to. He raised his eyebrows and continued to look at her with anticipation.

"And…?" he asked.

"Isn't that enough?" she replied. He sat quietly next to her, waiting.

"I want my old family. I want my friends?"

He furrowed his brows. "Is that a question?" he asked. "This isn't a test, Gus."

"Okay – okay, Sam, "she finally said with her voice raised. "I want to undo it. I want to go back and be smarter. I want to go back and call you and tell you what was happening! I want to fucking REMEMBER it all, so I can shut it down but I can't! I can't Sam. I LET this happen, because of my huge ego. Because I didn't want you and Dean to know. I wanted to be a grown up hunter and take him down on my own! Fuck! Fuck! No. Nope. No. You know what, Sammy? I want this to all go away and wake up from this bullshit that I call my life now. Are you happy you, you, dammit you - Winchester! Mr. Always Right? Is this what you wanted from me?" she cried into her closed fist she had unwittingly brought to her cheek. "Answer me," she yelled, striking that closed fist on the table.

His mind churned. He expected an emotional outcome, but… not those words. She was thinking he was 'Mr. Always Right"… Ouch. He collected his thoughts as Dean strode over from the corner of the kitchen where he had been standing and observing the whole time. Watching and listening, two of the things he did best. He sat on the other side of her, eyes dark green shining emeralds.

"Come here pixie," Sam said to her with his arms open. She hesitated. "I'm sixteen Sam, a little old for lap sitting don't ya think?" He smiled, remembering her full-on lap sitting/talking/sleeping extravaganza the night before. "Gus, I don't think any of us will tell. Just come here," he said, arms still open.

She slid off the chair and hop/limped over onto his lap. He was huge, but it felt eerily familiar to her just the same. He shifted her sideways easily, palming the back of her head and turning it so he could speak into her ear, and so Dean could hear what he said. She rested her head. "I'm so sorry, Sam," she choked out. He placed a tissue into her hand. "Hush, pix, just hush and listen to me, okay? This is NOT your fault, do you hear me?" he said. "I'm waiting. NOT. YOUR. FAULT."

She was shaking, trying to keep it together. Dean slid a glass of water (he was officially "The Water Guy" now, he thought ruefully) for Sam to give her. "Gus, here, take a drink nice and slow. Everything's okay, okay?" he said calmly.

She drank the whole glass slowly, just like he asked her to, and then she looked at him with anger and sadness. "It will NEVER be okay again, Sam. Ever. Ever. Ever. I'm not a virgin any more in any sense of the word or stretch of the imagination. I'm fucking ugly inside. I'm always going to be broken." Her voice hitched and they knew she was trying not to cry in front of them. That bothered them both. She picked up the glass she just emptied and threw it as hard as she could with her good hand into the wall with an almost primal scream.

"That's me, guys. Go make that glass okay! Make it usable! Give it value! Make it fucking functional!" she yelled with a sob. "I hate myself," she said, putting her head back down on Sam's shoulder.

Dean leaned across the table with his bright eyes glowing. "Don't you ever say that in front of me again. Ever. You are OUR sister, you're my Krissy and his Gus. You did nothing to deserve this. We won't let you hate yourself any more. It's not allowed. You are our pain-in-the-ass stubborn little sister and we are not going anywhere, " he told her firmly. He pointed his finger at her, his silver ring sending prisms of light dancing across the ceiling. "We will help you get through this, and we will end whoever did this. I promise you," he finished.

Sam could feel her slipping into her "little" mind frame again and guided her back to finish this. "I'm not done, Gus. Honey, we love you. But you HAVE to meet us part way starting right now. You want to get better – you told me that, right?" She nodded into his neck. "Good girl. There you are. You will remember what happened and it'll suck, but I promise I'll be here and so will Dean. That's our job, now, so you're stuck with two incredibly good looking, overbearing brothers now, got me?" He felt her lips twitch. He continued with what he dreaded, what he knew would be the hardest part, but he had to keep "Big Krissy" with him, so she could start to process her shit on a conscious level. "Little Krissy" was helping her, but she couldn't shoulder it all. She was like, eight. So he plowed on.

"And you're right, Gus. You will never be the same again baby doll, and for that I'm so sorry and so angry. And no, you can't have your dad back, or the others. You cannot undo any of it." Then he dropped his voice to a whisper, just between the two of them. "But you will always carry them in your heart, just like Dean and I do ours. Now WE are a family, and I swear things will get better if you trust me. Can you try to do that Krissy?" he asked, lips barely moving. She nodded again against his neck. He smiled. "Good. Does that mean no more fighting me on eating and cleaning your wounds?" She nodded again – lots of nodding going on, and that was good. "Awesome. So then trust me, little pixie, when I say the next time you throw a glass like that - you'll be writing Latin for a week at the very least. Men of Letters glasses are hard to come by," he teased. "We will find a better way to channel your anger, Gus. And finally," he said firmly, "Lying is a Grand Canyon level above breaking glasses – don't test it." Krissy looked up from his neck to see if he was kidding. He didn't look it. Nope. Not at all.

He slipped her back in her chair and zapped her dinner. She managed to eat some chicken and a few bites of broccoli. She totally finished the small glass of chocolate milk and looked over at him. He was beaming with pride. He was such a Nerdo.

He reached down into a plain brown-handled bag by the foot of his chair. To her surprise, he pulled out her yellow bathing suit, a super splurge she bought impulsively the summer before. She was confused. Swimming? He gave her a matter-of-fact look and said two words… "You smell." He grinned.

"Jeez, don't sugar coat it for me," she returned. He leaned forward, tossing the suit back in the bag. "So I was thinking, until you get a boot on your foot, you'll need help. So, you wear this in the tub so I can keep you smelling socially acceptable. Just until you can do it completely for yourself," he said reasonably. She was mortified. "Oh seriously? Come onnnn Sam…" she began, but was spoken over immediately by Dean. "Ahh, Sammy, apparently she's gone with option number two, also referred to as "The Nightly Hose Down." He wore a shit-eating grin and looked at her. "And honey, saying you smell is putting it kindly," he said honestly.

"Okay, assholes, okay," she relented. "But only til I get my boot on. And this sling off. And all my stitches out. A couple of weeks probably. And I won't need much," she directed at Sam.

"Let's just see what the doctor says, Gus. That's the other thing I wanted to tell you. Follow up appointment tomorrow morning so, you know, best behavior and such. No destroying her office, she's a nice lady, ok? It's just a quick recheck. I'll give you all the details on the way tomorrow," he promised.

He eyes darkened. "I don't want to go back there, Sammy," she said tiredly.

"Yep, I know. But you're going. Soooo," he added, quickly changing the subject, "Let's get you cleaned up and into bed. You've got to be exhausted. I know I am," he added. She wasn't going to argue him on that point.

"Check and check-mate," Sam thought, relieved.

Things went pretty well after the talk. He helped her into her suit from behind her and plastic bagged her foot. It surprised him that she lacked modesty with him. In this way, Gus could be very pragmatic. She knew for the time being that she couldn't do this alone. If it meant him seeing her bare ass, then she accepted it. Even though she knew in her heart that he had seen way more than that. She pushed that thought away. He kept himself expressionless at the now scabbing-over bites on her body. He wanted to be all business when it came to his part in cleaning her up. He carefully moved through hair washing and whatever else she couldn't reach, then gave her a few minutes of privacy. He knew she wasn't peeing blood anymore, because he wouldn't let her flush until he checked. Her neck was infected, though. She gripped his knee tightly as he thoroughly cleaned it out. "Fuuuck, Sam – stop already," she moaned through her teeth. He shook his head in the negative. "No can do, pix," he grit back. He was pissed. He knew this one would scar against her perfect porcelain skin. His heart pounded with anger that he would save and pour out to his brother after she fell asleep. And then he would run after that. Sam ran twice a day now - he found he had to just to keep his shit together. It helped. As soon as she was medically cleared, he would give her a routine to follow that would build her up physically and give her a physical release for all of her emotions. Mentally, he was still counting on "Little" for info, until the memories came back to the surface. He marveled at the tenacity and strength of Little. He knew Little was Gus, of course. She had sent those memories to a place she felt safe so she could survive. Little was there to catch them for her. She caught all those experiences and images and held them for Big Krissy. She was amazing. She had literally saved her own mind.

He threw all the gross cleaning stuff away and grabbed the med box he kept in his room. She held out her hand and tossed them into her mouth and swished them down with a slug of water. Clad in her blue gym shorts and white tee, she leaned on him as she limped over to her bed. Sam looked around the dismal room. Not very warm, that was for sure. "Maybe we could do a store run tomorrow after the doctor… pick up some stuff?" he asked her. "Nah, I love the 1950's Men of Letters look. Brown on brown is my favorite. Totally bangin'," she deadpanned back to him. "Smartass," he said with a smile.

He helped ease her onto the pillows, already noticing the effects of the meds. He kissed her forehead and told her to rest as he sat in the recliner and grabbed his laptop. "You don't have to stay, Sam," she said with the last of her Big Kissy voice. "I know," he answered. "I want to."

As he was about to get up, a small voice whispered. Little. He automatically reached for her hand and turned his ear closer. "What was that, sweetie?" he asked quietly. He always used his gentlest side with THIS SIDE of Gus. He loved hearing her sweet but always wise voice and he felt closer to her because of their exchanges.

"She can't remember everything at once, Sammy. It would make her way too sad and she might do what the bad thoughts are telling her to do," she repeated.

He rubbed her hand in his. "That's okay, honey. She doesn't need to remember all at once, right?" he asked.

"Nope," she said thoughtfully, "But she has to start soon or the bad thoughts might win." That sweet voice saying those words sent a chill through him. He looked at her and saw big, real tears tracking down her face. He kissed her hand. "It's gonna be okay, Gus, you don't have to cry, honey," he murmured. But cry she would, processing it all in order to help Big Krissy be ready. He ran his hand back through her hair and heard an audible sigh escape her lips.

"Hon – can you tell me about the bad thoughts?" he asked.

Tears leaking, she explained to him that the bad thoughts told her to hurt herself. They called her names. ("Names like HE called her – I mean us – Sammy") "They tell her to cut out her pain, and they tell her that daddy wants to see her. We miss him so much," she began to sob.

Sam squished beside her on the bed and tried to hold her the best that he could. God, he felt like he might break her. His arm wrapped around her warmly and he pulled her close. "I know, it's okay, it's okay to miss him, honey. It hurts to miss people doesn't it?" he asked her as she nodded into his chest. "But you know the bad thoughts are liars, don't you pixie?" he asked.

She snorted in a sob and sounded adorable. "Duh. I try to tell her that, too, and mostly she believes it. But sometimes they just get so LOUD inside her – my – head!" She turned her head up to him and nodded, as if to show him how sincere she was. As if she had to. "They cut her from the inside," she confided. Sam sat there cuddling her, thinking how much he wanted to kill something right now. He made a mental note to tell the doctor that info tomorrow - and knew it meant a med change for her. But that was okay, even good. This was all part of her healing. It would be whatever she needed.

She tried to snuggle her face deeper into his chest, but there was literally no more Sam to bury herself in. She reached for the tail of his unbuttoned flannel and he handed her one end. He really only needed the tee he was wearing under it, but he kept it on for her. This had become part of their routine too, and it seemed to help her that he kept it on (attached to him?) while she twisted it in her hand. She twisted it and pulled it, watching it unravel from tight knots she spun it in.

"Sammy, know what?" she asked. "What babydoll," he replied. She winkled her nose. "He smelled funny," she said. Sam's ears perked. "Tell me how you mean," he said gently. She thought for so long, twisting knots into the bottom of his shirt, that he thought she had fallen asleep. After awhile, she said "Like funny olden day smell, like cleaning stuff or something. It was all over him, Sammy! He smelled like when you go to see where dead people are," she finished.

"You mean like the cemetery?" he asked. She sighed. He grinned. Burned by an 8 year old sub-conscious. THAT was a new one. "Noooo Sammy," she said, explaining to his obvious Pre-K mind. "Like where the dead people go before the cemetery." Sam nodded his understanding. "My daddy didn't go to a cemetery. I burned up his body," she said mournfully. He kissed her cheek and kept his hand in her hair. "Mine too, pixie. That's because that's how we honor them." He sighed again and took a deep breath. "I want you to sleep now, okay G? I won't leave you," he said. She already was asleep, but Sam still didn't leave for a long time.

He was too busy thinking about smells.

A/N: So there it is! I really hope you liked it.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N…. Thanks to everyone reviewing and following. Things are starting to heat up! Warning: Mention of spanking. Thank you for reading…and thank you Hailstorm3, for inspiring me to begin with. As always, I own nothing Supernatural.

 **Chapter 5**

"I want to start back," she said.

Sam looked up from one of the many book spread out on the long table. "Back at what exactly?" he asked with a serious look on his face.

"You know. What we do. What I do."

He slowly closed the book in front of him. "You need another CAT scan because you've clearly lost your mind."

She mocked him. "Oh you so funny Dr. Jones!" Seriously. Me. Starting back. "

Sam looked at her incredulously. "You have a fractured SKULL and a broken foot that just got a boot. Oh yeah, a partially healed shoulder and you're half blind right now. Have I missed anything? Sure Gus, let's go shoot some guns because you want to. Are ya kiddin'?"

"I'm starting back"

"You're not starting back until I say you're ready to. That's the word, Gus. You're still on pain pills, anti-biotics, and a shitload of psychotropics."

She shifted her weight off her bad foot. "Way to make me feel useless Winchester. Nice shot."

"Look, pix, first of all it's Sam or Sammy to you, understand? You're my sister and we don't call each other by our last name… and it's OUR last name now, okay? You're still a Chambers and I get that, but you've got balls calling me anything but my name. I'm not trying to be shitty. I'm just giving you the facts of your physical condition and it just isn't time yet. Way too soon. Give yourself some time to heal, okay? I promise you'll get there."

"I promise you'll get there," she said, mimicking him with her hand on her hip. "Well gee Sammy-Sam, thanks for the pep talk. I'll just sit on my ass and watch fluffy clouds pass by in the sky… oh yeah wait… I wouldn't know if there were ANY clouds in the sky because I live under the fucking ground in a god damn bunker!"

"Gus, you watch that mouth of yours," he said pointing his finger at her. "The answer is still no. Give it a month and we'll see how you're doing physically and mentally. Trust me, when you're ready – we're gonna train your ass and train it hard."

"Sammy-Sam, I don't wanna wait and I really don't see how you can keep me from working on my own. I'll do what I do and there isn't a damn thing either of you can do about it. I'm so over you guys ordering me around."

He looked at her with his eyes searching her face. "Your lip is bleeding again. If you don't start taking care of that I'll have to do it for you. And I don't care what you want or think you can do. NO. N fucking O, pixie dust." (This was his new and latest nickname for her. He changed them constantly and it drove her crazy.)

His calm demeanor was only betrayed by the darkening of his eyes and the slight lines that appeared on both sides of his mouth. This served to make Krissy even more determined. She shifted her weight back to her booted foot and leaned on the small cane she used. Her face briefly twisted in pain, then became a blank canvas.

"Really, Sammy-Sam, brother of mine… seriously what ya gonna do, ground me? I'm already literally underground-ed. Spank me? Nah, spanking the injured isn't your style. It would only delay my physical healing and could possibly emotionally scar me." She sent him a sly smile; sure that the message she sent was clear.

He was impressed. She was a clever one. She found a way around calling him Winchester and it was annoying. She also found a way of mocking the fact that he considered himself her brother. Also annoying. Annoying but, still, clever. However, he knew what she needed. He still was a step ahead of her. He gave her "the look", and he swore she looked bored by it. He had given that look to men before he had killed them, and this five foot tall Tink looked at him like he was fucking boring her. He had no idea what sisters could be like. He was still new at this. Sisters were confusing, one minute hating you and the next asking you to watch Netflix. But he knew in his heart what she needed.

He slowly got up from the chair and walked over to her. She was not at all nervous or intimidated ("ever," he thought ruefully). Not by his size or the look on his face. The plain and simple fact was, she knew he was her Sam and he would never hurt her. She stood until he came directly in front of her. She still smiled her sly knowing smile.

He looked straight down. "No, G., I won't spank you even though I think you desperately are asking for one. And it's not because you're hurt or would be mentally scarred or that bullshit talk of yours. It's because that, for me, is a last resort measure… Your butt is fine to take one. And I WILL spank you even though you are sixteen. Doesn't matter to me. If I feel like I need to do that to make an impression last, I will do it. So now you know how that works with me. I hope we're clear on this. Don't push me there, because it's something I don't wanna do but I promise you Gus, I **will** if I feel like I need to. I love you, and I'm a man of my word. So no more playing around with words with me. And you're right. Grounding you seems redundant."

He reached down and snatched her up easily in his arms, her walking boot swinging back and forth under his hold. He read her mind. He tilted his head and gave her a look. "You soooo better not kick me with your boot, Gus. I mean it. It's how you walk, and if you break it you'll be in massive trouble." He continued his previous train of thought. "So I won't spank you – this time – and I won't ground you. But I won't have you mouthing off to me or trying to manipulate me with your words and your looks. Not gonna work ever again, pix," he spoke as he moved down the hall to her room. He reached up to block her small fist as she reached back to clock him in the temple. "REALLY?" he thought.

"That's a definite mistake, Gus. He held her hand firmly but without using force. He could break her hand purely accidentally if he wasn't careful with her. "No hitting the brothers. THAT will lead to a red ass faster than you can imagine. "Krissy was taken aback by the clear truth coming from his eyes, yet she had to challenge him. "That's so not like you, Winch – I mean, Sammy. You're just trying to scare me straight. We both know you would never do that. It's just not in you," she said with sass.

"Oh, wouldn't I? Let's just say you keep your little hands to yourself so you don't have to find out, okay? I'm not trying to scare you. I'm giving you information you better take heed to. This is helpful info, Gus, and I'd pay attention because I'm not going over this again with you."

He could see the defeated look on her face and couldn't help but soften, just a little. Like he did with her after each one of these new impromptu lessons on what it meant to be a Winchester and live with people who set boundaries for you and expected you to respect them.

"I'm not trying to be mean. Just no fucking hitting. We can talk later about some small stuff you can do okay? I think that would help." Sam paused for a moment before placing her on her bed. "You mean your dad never once spanked you?" he asked. "Nope," she said casually. "He just kind of lost himself after my mother was torn apart in front of us. Didn't really do the dad thing, which was fine with me. I mean, he was my dad and I loved him, but he wasn't the same kind of dad." He looked down at her sadly. "Well, pixie dust, sorry to say – you need to get yourself acclimated to the way we live. You're our little sister now, for real, and Dean and I take that very seriously. So just follow the rules and you'll be okay," he said kissing the top of her head.

He put her down on the bed and pulled the pink quilt over her. He mentally counted down in his head…3…2…1… "I'm not tirrred Samm, it's like 2pm. Come onnn. I don't wanna nappp…

He brought her the meds she was due and watched her take them without any argument. "You need to rest up – it's been two weeks since your last appointment. Monsters aren't going anywhere," he said, laying his hand on her head. She dejectedly snuggled into her pillows. "Yeah, those monsters will but mine may not," she said sulking. He sat down beside her and ran his hand through her short hair. "Hush, pixie, I want you to sleep for now. It's okay to rest. I promise. Dean and I have it all under control and he'll be back soon. All you need to do is close your eyes and hush now."

"But…Sam…remembering is hard," she mumbled softly.

"I said hush. Quiet…shhh….I know…it's okay. It'll come in time, honey."

"Stay til I'm asleep okay 'cuz I'm afraid alone, Sammy, k? Can't be alone… not safe… be smarter next time stupid ass," she continued.

He kissed her temple just like he always did and kept himself beside her with his hand tracing through her hair. Occasionally he would wipe her face free of the tears she still didn't know were streaming down her face. "Dear God," he thought helplessly…But then…

…he felt her shoulder pull back and shrink into her pillows and watched her whole body tense. Her eyes, closed just a moment before flew open as she bolted straight up in the bed. Sam instinctively threw his arm around her for comfort and to keep her from injuring herself. Her eyes were now large chocolate orbs full of rage and terror and hurt. Because she was complicated like that. She tried to wrench out of his hold, but well, Sam Winchester holding onto you = not going anywhere. Instead, he reached his other arm across the front of her to brace her at her hip. Sort of like a seat belt.

He spoke to her softly. This was important. "What's goin' on, Gussie? Talk to me, I'm right here. You can tell me anything."

She was sucking in air that he didn't feel her releasing. He moved into autopilot. "Krissy – breathe out – do you hear me? Hey – OUT!" He gave her a little shake. Nothing. He took his hand and gave her a light slap between her shoulder blades. He heard a wheeze and a gasp. He quickly turned her face toward his. "Ya with me pix? Come on honey, in and out like we always do," he said, rubbing his hand through her hair and down her back until he felt her rhythm returning.

Her lips moved but no words came. Her eyes flooding with emotion her brain was processing – readying her to push out her words.

Sam knew. He knew she was remembering something. Little Krissy sent her something to kick start her recovery. He welcomed it and yes, he feared it at the same time.

"Gus, use your words, honey. You aren't using them so I can't hear you and I can't help you. Come on, talk to me baby," he pleaded. He brushed his hand all the way through her hair from the her sweaty forehead to the nape of her neck, rubbing across her shoulders that he saw were pushed up to where her ears were. He applied a little pressure to move them down to where they were supposed to be.

"Fuck, Sam I remember being tied there was a post. Smells. Oh god oh god oh fuck smells and he would come and go and I would hear him coming but not see him but oh god I could fucking smell him first like rubbing alcohol and pickle juice and something else and I knew Sammy. I knew you and Dean weren't coming and I knew what was going to happen then and it was me Sammy all me oh god all mine to carry alone no saving me from this one…fuck Sammy MOVE!" she screamed, holding her hand over her mouth. He jumped over her body with the reflexes of a cat, lifting her over the side of her bed sideways as she began to vomit and gag.

He could hear Dean's boots running down the hall, dropping grocery bags and tearing into the room. He ran quickly beside Sam, holding onto her and speaking to him in their unspoken eye language. Dean understood. This was what they wanted and feared. Her memories were returning.

Sam slid her over his lap and held onto her shoulders for support, so she wouldn't topple and face plant on the floor. She was shaking and screaming and vomiting everywhere. Dean brought the blanket up and Sammy pulled it over her body for warmth. He ran his hand up and down her back silently. Nothing left in her body, he watched bright yellow bile fly from her mouth to the floor. She began to dry heave. Sam thought it would never end.

"Sam, are you here?"

He squeezed her arm reassuringly. "I'm here pixie, and so is Dean. We're here."

"Don't look at me, okay?"

"Why wouldn't I look at you, honey?"

Ignoring him, instead she said, "Washcloth, please."

Dean went across to Sam's room and grabbed a few warm washcloths and some water. He was getting used to being the water guy, the washcloth guy, and he was worried that he soon would be the "vomit clean up guy". He wasn't used to being so far in the background; after all, **he** was the big brother. Everything rode on his shoulders. He was proud to watch Sammy step up, and honestly, he was relieved. Sammy stepping up with Krissy had made their relationship shift – it had become more balanced. He was able to see Sam in a totally different light. Sometimes Dean saw HIMSELF in some of Sam's mannerisms and it made him even more proud – but that was ego and he knew it. His most proud moments came when Sammy just shone through, with that light that Dean always saw inside him. That's when he felt like the best big brother in the world. But he still didn't want to clean up the puke.

She was still hanging face down across his lap when Dean handed him the washcloths and water with a nod. He placed the washcloths in her open hand and then lifted her by the waist and set her right-side up, sitting beside him on the bed. She kept the warm cloth on her face and winced as she tried to bring her knees up to her chest. Instead, she turned and lay on her side, curled up and facing away from Sam. Dean stood at the head of the bed, outside of sight and watching carefully.

"Come here Gus, turn around. I want to see your beautiful, strong, brave face."

"NO."

He was gentle, but he put his hands under her and turned her to his direction. "I know what you're doing and I won't let you do it. You **do not** hide, especially from me pix." He placed his hands over hers, sliding the warm washcloth down and off her face. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She closed them, and he gently rubbed his thumbs across her eyelids and out to her temple. "Open those eyes and look at me," he said softly. He put his hands on each side of her face. "Listen to me, Krissy W. You're never hiding about any of this again. You have nothing to hide from or to be afraid of because I won't let anything hurt you. My word."

Mumbling.

"Could you please not mumble?" he asked for the four thousandth time. It's like she talked with a mouth full of marbles sometimes.

"I said I want to hide. From YOU especially. Can't you just let me? Please, Sam. Just let me. You told me the rules and I broke them and now…"

His hands never left her face. "Is that what you think? That the fucking dickwad that raped and beat the shit out of you was some kind of universal punishment for not following my rules?"

She tried to look down, but Sam would not relent. He wouldn't let this one go without an answer. She stared back at him. "Well, yeah, Sammy, it's pretty clear to me. Rules broken equal consequences – you say that ALL THE TIME to me. And you're right. Fuck. You're fucking right, big brother. God isn't watching any more, right? Fuck, CAS wasn't even. And neither were you guys, but that's all on me." She spoke as if explaining a math equation.

He brought his hands down and held hers tightly.

"No, Gus, you've got it all wrong. You could have followed every rule I gave you to the "T", and this still could have happened. Because, honey, this world is full of monsters and also very bad people who behave like monsters. You didn't make it happen, baby. Honestly, I take the blame for not staying on your ass consistently."

Krissy sighed. "Of COURSE you dimwits take the blame. Is there anything ever in this world that you don't take responsibility for?"

Same thought for a moment. She was using his words to lead them off-track. He had to keep this on point for her sake.

"Pixie, rape isn't universal punishment. It's about violence and power coming from a person full of violence and no power. Rape…"

"Stop saying that. Can you just stop saying that?" she blurted. Sam looked at her, not understanding.

"Rape. Can you stop saying it?"

Sam thought carefully. "Why does it upset you that I use the word that fits what happened to you?" he asked.

"Because it's ME, Sam. It's fucking ME. I hate that word. Stop saying it. Please just stop because I can't Sam I just can't and I hate it! And I can feel myself starting to remember being … it," she was close to melting down.

He brought her close and wrapped his long arms around her. Usually Big Krissy wouldn't let him. He sent silent thanks and love to Little Krissy, whom he suspected had sent that little nugget as well. She knew Big K. would need to be held as she remembered. She would need to feel safe as the memories began to be sent "up".

"Sam?"

"Yep."

"It hurt. It really, like, hurt. A LOT. That's all I remember right now. I'm scared Sammy. I don't wanna remember. Can't Cas block it or erase it from my mind? PLEASE Sammy." She was starting to cry. "I want to die, Sam. Fuck. I don't want to remember and I want it to stop hurting."

He nodded his head silently. "No honey, Cas cannot wipe your memory of this. In fact, he's said it's important for you to remember and remember on your own."

At this she began to full out sob into him, burying her face into his side.

"Shhh…listen to me….hush okay...settle down." He had begun rocking her slowly back and forth. "Are you listening?" he asked. She nodded as she hiccupped a sob. He thought of how much he loved her for swallowing her sob to try to listen to him. "Wanting to die and dying are two different things, pixie dust. I understand that." And he did. He knew that feeling like he knew his own name. And he knew how to live with it and beat it. She didn't though. He would protect her until she learned to live with it and beat it. Emphasis on live.

"I won't let you go, Gus. We'll get through this, but you have to fight those bad thoughts. Can you fight them?" he spoke quietly into her ear.

She sobbed. God, so many heart wrenching long sobs tearing from her body. "I'll try – but sometimes they're so LOUD Sammy. They cut me from the inside," she said weakly, repeating the exact words Little Krissy had spoken to him just two weeks earlier. It was both eerie and comforting to hear them now, coming from her fully conscious mind.

"Then fight them as hard as you can, babydoll."

He gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Do you think you can sleep a little for me?"

She looked over at the floor. "I need to clean up that – ugh." She wrinkled her nose.

"Not the question I asked you, pix. You can nap in my bed. Up you go," he said as he lifted her. He tucked her in, watching her drop off practically as soon as her head hit his pillow. He went to leave and grabbed a few of his weapons, just to be safe. There were too many things she could get into trouble with in there, so he left the door open wide as well.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Go to sleep, Gus"

"But Sam?"

"Yes , pixie."

"Ummm…. Just, thanks," she said.

As he walked out the door she murmured as she drifted off, "I think you're the one that's beautiful."

Sam Winchester had excellent hearing. Of all the compliments he would receive throughout the rest of his life, what he heard from his sister's mouth as she fell asleep in his bed, fighting for her mind and health … well, that remained his favorite, SHE remained his favorite, forever. Right up there next to his brother.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Warning here, guys: Heavy sad, darker stuff in this chapter, suicide attempt…Just stay away if that's a trigger, k? You can always pick up next chapter… as always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing….guest who review: thanks so much. It's like the best feeling ever…PS Doing a few POV's here to start…

 **Chapter 6**

 **KRISSY'S POV:**

I am awake but not moving. I know where I am. Sam's room. I can smell his Sam-smell on the pillow my head's resting on. It smells nice.

I feel abnormally calm. In fact, I feel really good and peaceful inside. So peaceful. Memories float lazily through my mind. One after another they stack up like blocks and then tumble over, only to begin stacking again. Around and around the images appear and sear into my conscious. I watch myself being twisted and turned, screaming until I had no voice left to scream with. I saw. I knew now. It all made perfect sense and I was ready to put an end to the worst video loop in my head ever. I knew I could stop this, and it made total, reasonable sense. Finally, I was thinking like Sam. Calm. Sammy would be disappointed in me and Dean would be relieved. It really was for the best. These most definitely were not the bad thoughts, these were calm, sensible, serene, peace-bringing thoughts. I just knew it.

I looked at his night stand and saw a bottle of water and two Advil. Ol' Sammy-Sam was a total hit on the big brother mark. I very quietly threw back the pills and ignored the water. Sam had excellent hearing and I didn't want him busting in. Crinkling water bottles might bring him in. After, he would be so surprised and so proud.

My reasonable voice explained that once I made the cuts there would be no more pain. I would be free, and my brothers would be free of me. The voice made so much sense. I mean, really – grown men alternately fighting with and then coddling me –pathetic. I was sure they would thank me – maybe even celebrate and go out like two single guys should instead of babysitting my half crazy ass. They would be happy, and I would finally be the reason for happiness. God, that gave me peace.

I took that clompy boot off and slid out of his bed. Knowing Nerdo the way that I do, I bypassed the bed stand and slid straight over to his dresser. Not the top, the voice said. Low, down low to the bottom drawer and on the right, because he was right handed and if down on the floor in a fight – it was reasonable to want an easy reach to a weapon. I smiled at the stillness that finally filled my whole body. There were no sad, twisted memories or thoughts in this place. Just vast stillness. I slid the drawer a tiny bit open and reached in to feel the bottom, criss-crossing all the way to the: BINGO! "Sherlock," the voice said, cheering me on, "You've cracked the case!" I closed my eyes in relief. Opening the silver knife, I got to work. I carefully cut a line from the inside of my elbow to my wrist. Heh. The voices were right! I barely even felt it. I really didn't feel anything. I cut across the line at my wrist, staying calm and being considerate – catching the blood with his small throw rug. It was the right thing to do. Sam was the best thing I had in my life, the most love I had ever been unconditionally given, except by my own father. He'd be grateful to see how much I loved him back by not making a mess, and by being so rational about it all. He would see how much I wanted to be like him. Again, I smiled at the ease of the flow that this had come to me. It felt good to have a reason to smile.

 **SAM'S POV:**

I changed into my running gear quickly and headed out. Dean was in the library and my bedroom door was wide open. Pixie was out cold. I had just checked on her and left her a water and some Advil. I would make her something light to eat once I got back. After all that puking, she needed something in her belly. She really was like a little Tink since she chopped her hair. So cute. I did a few stretches and started slow, pressing in my ear buds and hitting the path. I found my rhythm easily and tried to clear my mind as my feet pounded across the pavement. I passed the park and decided to add an extra mile to burn off my stress and worry over Gus. Poor puking pixie. Still, she was starting to remember and that was good. I hit that extra mile easily and curved myself around to head back home. She'd be awake soon and I wanted to have food ready. I prayed to the dirty dish gods. Dean and I didn't always make dishes a priority, and with adding Gus to the fold, it didn't exactly stand out as the most important thing on our plates. Plates and silverware – here's hoping there were a few clean. She wouldn't need much. Soup? Just a bowl and spoon – maybe some toast. The idea of toast made me uneasy. What the hell? I began to think. Toast, toaster, butter, butter knife – silverware…. I felt myself pick up speed, feet pounding harder and faster at the thought of silverware. What the fuck? My thoughts circled my mind. Silver. Butter knife. Silver. KNIFE. My stomach dropped. Fuck oh fuck. Half a mile to go, I slicked back my sweaty hair that kept falling into my face. Quarter mile - already had my key out. Rounding the corner, I flew up the stairs and the door, sliding myself down the inside stairs in one fell swoop. Tearing past Dean, who was cleaning his gun at the table, I raced down the hall to my open bedroom door and found my bed empty. I heard a rattle at my dresser and looked over at Gus. She held my silver blade in her bloody hand. Her eyes were (empty?)… She was smiling… I swear to God. Smiling. She turned her face to me and said, "Look, Sammy, I'm not even making a mess. Pretty sensible, huh?"

 **NORMAL POV:**

Sam flew to her side. Holding her wrist above her and turning it slightly, she released the knife. He caught it easily with his other hand and pitched it across the room. Yelling for Dean, he wrapped the rug around her sliced arm and laid her down on his bed. He saw her removed boot and sent it careening into his closet.

She was wide awake, still smiling and looking up at him with chocolate eyes full of confusion. How in God's name was she still conscious? He looked down at her, wanting to hold her, to slap her, to scream in her face. His eyes blurred.

"Pix, oh fucking God, what have you done to youself? Jesus Christ, you need stitches – A LOT – what? What? WHYYY?" he finally choked out, emotion and fear getting the best of him. He squeezed her arm firmly to slow the bleeding. The rug was soaked. She kept smiling, and he felt himself snap out of it. He went into lifesaving mode.

"KRISSY," he yelled, pressing even harder on the slice while snapping his fingers with the other. He took his hand and shook her hard. Dean appeared with a "WTF" look and ran to his side.

"Dean, keep the pressure on. I need the kit – I don't know if I can do this! She fucking filleted her arm… holy fucking God," he swore.

"Just get the kit. Move, Sammy," he Dean said quickly. He looked at Krissy. "Hey. kid – ya with me,?" he asked frantically.

Smiling that creepy serene smile, she said "Hi, Dean."

"Hi, Dean?" he repeated through clenched teeth. "Hi Krissy, what's new? Oh, I see you've decided to give me a full-blown heart attack. Nice job, kid," he said slowly lowering his voice to normal level.

Sam ran in and dumped the kit. He threw his brother two clean towels to switch out for the bloody rug. He looked at Dean. "I cannot believe she's still fucking awake," he said rapidly. He checked Gus' eyes. He put his hand on her forehead. "Pix?" he questioned.

"Hi Sammy-Sam. Yes. Here with you," she answered with that odd look on her face.

"Okay, then, no time to waste honey. I'm stitching you up. This is gonna hurt, buttercup. I'm sorry," he said bluntly.

She spoke. "No, Sam, just let it go. I don't even feel it. Pretty soon everything will be okay and all the hurt will be gone forever. You and Dean can go back to what you love doing. It's okay, Sammy. You don't need this. I shouldn't be your burden. It's the sensible thing to do. You have to calm down, be reasonable," she softly explained.

Oh this is bad, Sam thought.

"Well that's just bullshit, little girl," he said roughly." Pix, that's not how this is going down. I'm calm, see? You lay there and be good for Dean while I fix you up."

He and Dean switched places as Sam dosed her slice with alcohol. He expected her to scream from the stinging burn, but she didn't. Her creepy smile was gone though. Good, he thought.

As he was about to pierce her skin, her right hand reached over and grabbed his forearm. "Do it quick, Sammy, the bad thoughts have tricked her."

It was Little.

"They told her it made sense. They told her you would be proud of her. You would celebrate and be happy. They found a different way to make her do the bad thing."

She squeezed his arm. "DO IT, Sammy, we're dying, I think," she said in a thin voice. "They lied, Sammy. Help us, please."

Sam steeled himself. "Okay little one, hold on. Dean will help you keep still for me, k? It's okay to cry or scream because this will hurt a lot. It's okay. We both are here."

He began, trying to block out the cries of Little. He wanted to be the one holding her down and speaking words to calm her, but the fact was he was better at stitching. Poor Little was screaming and kicking. Dean was practically lying across her to keep her from kicking him in the head. Sam was moving as fast as he could, suture by suture. Little begged and begged him to stop. She was so strong. Even now she stepped in and took the pain to spare Big Krissy. Big K's plate was full, so it fell to Little. Again.

"Damn, she's strong, Sammy! Shit, man, hurry up!"Dean gasped.

"Almost there. Six across the bottom and I'll be done." He noticed Little had pretty much cried herself out and given in to the inevitable. She wasn't kicking at all and stopped begging. She was just crying softly with her head lying on Deans belly while he stroked her hair.

"Done," Sam said.

"I'll wrap her," Dean said, looking down at her exhausted form that only had eyes on Sammy. Her hand was reaching out to him, making a "come here" motion to him.

He dropped his curved needle into the tray and pulled her onto his lap as he sat on his bed. He gently placed her arm over his so Dean could wrap it. He looked down at her eyes. God, would they ever not be swollen from crying?

His arm curved around her and she put her head right on his chest by his armpit. She didn't seem to care that he reeked.

"How ya doin', little one?" he asked with a small smile, putting his hand on the back of her head.

"Well jeesh Sammy, you hurt me – us – A LOT," she said, shyly, burying her head into his armpit. Little was so adorable, Sam just loved her. As sassy and smart-mouthed Big could be, Little was the opposite. Her personal ying and yang.

"Why are you acting so shy, little girl," Sam questioned.

Little gave a long sigh, as if Sam should already know. She really did think he had rocks in his head sometimes. She couldn't see Sam grinning. It was cute that she thought he was a little thick sometimes.

"Because I was screaming and crying and kicking like a baby, and I'm embarrassed," she said into his armpit.

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Honey, I would have been screaming too. Or been knocked out drunk, but there was no time for that today. You are incredible. I'm so proud of you, little one. You take on so much. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I'm not because it saved you. You almost died. I'm so sorry I left the knife."

She turned up to him in earnest, wincing as she shifted herself around. Sam had blood – her blood – all over him. His shirt, his face where he wiped sweat off, through his hair. "NO – no – Sammy listen to me. Listen. She raised her small palm and placed it on his cheek. Such a sweet gesture. "It wasn't you. The bad thoughts – they tricked her, like I said. They thought of lots of ways to hurt her, even with no knife." She patted his cheek. "Not your fault, Sam-Wise." She giggle/moaned at her turning the tables on him, giving HIM a new nickname. She thought she was hilarious. Everything was so wavy in front of her eyes, and she felt like she was sinking into a cloud.

"Sammy,"?

"What, baby?"

"It hurts really bad now even for me. She – I mean I – will be in a bad way tomorrow. Please make it go away."

Like magic, Dean appeared with two white pills and the water he was doomed to deliver to this child daily.

"Thank you, Dean," Little said in her light, sweet voice. It was the first time she had ever spoken directly to him.

"Anything for you, babygirl," he said softly. He decided on the spot to buy cases of water and store them for her. This little voice was Krissy, too. God. No wonder she had Sam eating out of her hand.

"Tired now Sammy. So tired. Sorry we messed up your room with our blood."

"Shhhh, pixie. It's time for real sleep now. Let's get you back to your pretty pink room. Okay with you?"

He picked her up, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I love my room. I've never had one before. It's pink, Sammy. I love pink," she said as she began to nod off.

"I know hon," he said soothingly, thinking this might be one of the most obscure conversations he'd ever had with her. "I paid for all your pink stuff – remember when we went shopping? I know you love pink, pixie."

"Don't forget to stay with us, Sammy. She may be afraid of you when she wakes up. Afraid you will be mad… and … and spank her," she said sleepily.

"Tink, nobody's getting spanked, so just hush and let her know. I love you. Dean loves you. We're family and we stick together. You lay here and sleep now. Not another word," he said as he pulled the covers up over her.

"But…."

"Shhh"

"But listen."

"What, Tinker?"

"Lay with me, okay, please? Unless you don't want to," she said sadly.

"Stop that talk right now. Of course I will" he told her. He remembered then that her boot was missing.

"Fuck. Where's your boot, pix?"

"Watch your mouth, Sammy," she giggled.

He smiled at the irony. "Okay now, it's sleep time for girls. Quiet now. Love you, pix."

She snuggled into his side. "Me too, Samson. She giggled again at her second nickname of the day. I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry," she said.

"Shhh, shhh," were the last words she heard before sleep took them both down. And they were both grateful.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry for not getting this up sooner. You guys are just the best thing for my heart… Remember to Always Keep Fighting. Chin up and all that. Shout out to Hailstorm3 for her consistent support and friendship. Go check out her incredible stories as well! As always, I own nothing Supernatural.

 **Chapter 7:**

Dean and Sam sat at the kitchen table, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to make a plan on what to do next. Sam's eyes were cloudy with confusion.

"The thing I don't get is she seemed fine to me. I thought we were on the same page finally. I missed it. I fucking missed it," Sam said. "It really felt like she had turned a corner… man, I dunno… maybe she had to fall just a little bit further. But last night was too fuckin' close. Last night can never, EVER happen again."

Dean was frustrated by the sheer emotion Krissy brought out in his usually even-tempered brother. He was used to being the one who needed to relax. He was not used to this particular shoe being on the other foot. He had to find a way to help him even out.

"Okay. Whadda' we know, Sammy? We know she's remembered or is remembering quickly the details of the rape. That's a big fuckin' deal all on its own, bro. We also know she can't be trusted to be alone, not until we're both positive she's not gonna try to off herself again."

"Right," Sam added, a spark showing in his eyes. "We also know she has a lot of valuable info for us when we talk to her. And yeah, one-on-one until we decide otherwise." He knew Gus would hate one-on-one, especially some of the more delicate particulars of it, but she would just have to find a way to deal with that. He would make sure she understood there was no leeway there. He was starting to feel better, more in control of himself after the out of control craziness of the night before.

"She'll also need to keep up with her wound care, plus now the arm. No excuses, no exceptions," Dean stated with a determined look in his eye.

"Agreed. We should try to keep the pain meds as far apart as we think she can tolerate. I don't want any trouble getting her off those," Sam added.

"Yep. So you go deal with why last night happened, and bring her up to speed on what we have going. Which means what SHE has going. Depending on her attitude, we'll go from there. Oh, and any additional info she gives you, we can add to the timeline later." Dean stood and headed for the refrigerator.

"She obviously needs professional help, Dean," Sam said from behind him.

Dean was incredulous. He turned and faced his brother. "Okay Sammy, you go find a wonderful therapist for a girl with a fake name and fake insurance. I hear shrinks are just dying to take on patients who can't pay. You run with that, Pocahontas."

"Yeah, I will," Sam retorted. "I'll give Jody a call and get her opinion. I'm sure she can give me a lead or two, you know, send me in the right direction."

"That's actually a good idea," Dean said. He turned back around, his way of ending the conversation.

Sam grabbed his third cup of coffee and started down the hall to Pixie's room, laptop in his other hand. He settled in the familiar recliner, watching her. He looked her arm over and put the back of his hand across her forehead. Cool. That was good. Later, he would clean her arm along with that neck bite that stubbornly refused to heal. But that would come after a well-needed talk.

He began to hear her stir about 45 minutes later. She was talking, definitely saying words. Sam leaned his ear closer. "Kill you", "Find you", "Never", and "Fucking ugly asshole" – all clearly heard. The ends of his mouth tipped upward at the last one. Not that any of this was amusing – it just sounded so much like his old fighting Gus. He missed that girl. He mourned her. His heart broke for her. He cursed the man who took that girl away from him. He looked forward to the day they stood eye to eye. He would thoroughly enjoy the time they spent together.

For a brief moment she had no real memory or thought of the night before, until she tried to shift herself up on the fluffy pink pillows underneath her. Her face twisted into a mask of pain.

"Holy fuck! Saaaammmmmm," she grit out.

He put his arm around her shoulder and propped her up with another pillow, giving her a quick kiss on the head and handing her an open bottle of water.

"Drink," he said.

She drank. And drank. She drank the whole bottle until it made crunching noises from being empty.

Sam added more pillows to keep her in a sitting position and to rest her arm on. She looked at him, then at her arm, then back to him.

She gave him one final look of defeat. "I suck so bad I can't even kill myself the right way. Did you swoop in and save the day, Sammy?" she asked with little emotion. Sam glared.

"Don't. Don't even make light. Barely, Gus. Sure, you're still with us, but you have no idea how close…" he trailed off, pissed.

"But I do, Sam. I was with my reaper. She was leading me through a field of wildflowers. I made a ring for my hair. And then… I woke up here just now."

Sam was shocked. His 16 year old sister was with her fucking REAPER. His eyes softened as they so often did at her. He sighed, running his hands through her pixie hair bed-head, and looking down at her hands that began to tremble. She wasn't sure what to say, or how to say it. She was all out of sarcasm and all out of hope. She turned her head to him, pained brown eyes to understanding brown eyes, and began to spill out her truth.

"I remember it all now. I remember it all and I can't handle it."

"You can. You will. You are so much stronger than this, Tink. But this IS not good. This is bad and I won't let it happen again to you. To us."

Krissy looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and yes, fear. She had an epiphany. She looked down.

"You want me gone," she whispered. "I totally get it. You need your old lives back – hunting things, blah de blah, the family blah blah. You miss the road. And I'm crazy as fuck, which I definitively proved last night. I'll be gone before the stitches come out."

Sam grabbed her chin and firmly turned her face to meet his, frustration and anger in his eyes. "Listen, Pixie, for the last time: You are our sister. No give backs. "He squeezed his fingers against her chin, not to hurt, but to make his point. "You are with us and we are with you. We aren't running from this. In fact, we are running toward this. I'm going to get you some real help and drag this out into the light. I know you're testing me right now, aren't you?" He looked at her sternly because he already knew the answer. "DO NOT bring up leaving us again, do you understand?"

She managed to nod her head in the affirmative, and he let go, resting his hand on under her chin as he did. She could still see his anger, tempered by his love.

"Sam, I'm so…," she began.

"Stop," he said.

She peered at him closely, trying to remember how easily she used to be able to read him. She used to read him so well, he was basically a puppet in her hands. So much had changed. He head was throbbing and so was her arm. She was so ashamed, she didn't dare ask for pain meds until he offered. She searched for her words carefully, and softly spoke them to her brother.

"You're going to do some kind of Winchester -sister-old-fashioned-beat-the-sense-into-me-thing aren't you? Right? Go ahead, Samson, just do it and get it over with. I deserve whatever's coming to me. I'm a liar, and I'm no good, and I'm crazy as fuck in about a hundred different ways. I know I deserve it," she admitted, keeping her eyes on her hands as she systematically picked at her cuticles.

Sam reached over and took her hands in his.

"Stop picking your cuticles, Guster. Just relax. He placed his hand against the side of her head and said "No more talk of beatings. Not that I don't agree with you that you certainly deserve a red ass, but I'm just not in the sister-beatin' mood today." He smiled at her and gave her a sly wink. "BUT, you're in deep shit. I have a long list of rules you'll follow and also goals we both expect you to meet on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis. Time to man up, Winchester."

"I'd rather just take the beating," she said slowly.

Dimples popped out on both sides of Sam's face. He understood. Pixie was not gonna like what the plan was, but by God he would walk her through each step day by day if necessary. And it probably would be.

*******************************************************************"Hold still," he said as his hand firmly held her arm in place as he cleaned it.

Eyes closed tightly, she couldn't keep the tears from tracing down her face. She gasped and pulled as he meticulously moved down her arm and across her wrist.

"Fuck, Sammy, stopstopstop," she begged.

"Uhnt-uh, Tink. Let me see that neck." He tilted her head to the side and murmured a curse under his breath. He began to wipe around the still red bite.

Krissy surprised herself, speaking clearly as the memory wafted up into her mind and out of her mouth. "He really enjoyed that one. Over and over and over he would come back to that spot. Said he loved to hear how I screamed when he did it." She looked over at him with plaintive eyes. "I screamed a lot."

Sam sat down, fully focused on his sister. He had heard a lot from Little, but this was the first time Pix was talking to Sam, fully aware. He held out his hand to her and she surprised herself for the second time by taking it, letting him comfort her by running his thumb across the top of her cuticle-torn hand. She closed her eyes and brought his cuff up to her nose.

"Uhhh… Tink?" he questioned.

"It's not that bad remembering if I can smell you, Sammy. It reminds me that I'm not there, ya know? Is that lame?" she asked.

"Nope, not at all, Gus. Whatever gets you there safe. That's all I care about," he answered, giving her hand a squeeze.

She took a breath of Sam in.

"He hated that I wouldn't scream at first. I wouldn't even when he hit me, even when he bit me hard." Her voice grew dark and low. "But then he started to talk about cutting me… you know… in "places"… and he kept biting that same spot on my neck, biting me all over. So I screamed. I screamed until I spit blood and he laughed. I hated myself for it. Sometimes I still do."

"You saved your own life by doing that," Sam stated with a calm voice. "Pixiedust, baby, you did what you had to do to survive and I'm so fucking proud of you. You used your head," he praised, feeling his cuff begin to get wet by her leaking tears.

"He would go and he would come back. I was tied up alot, but I could always smell him before I saw him coming. Oh God, that **smell**."

Sam could see her small diaphragm begin to rise and fall more rapidly and her grip began to tighten on him. She opened her mouth to continue, but a strong wheezing sound followed by a squeak came out instead. Sam leaned close, wrapping his arm all the way around her and speaking quietly in her ear.

"That's enough talk for now, Gus. Slow down, ok? You ok? Take some slow breaths with me like we do. Nice and slow. You did so good, baby, I'm so proud of you."

Her breathing began to slow and she lowered her eyes and closed them. "I'm not a baby, Sam," she said. "You keep calling me baby."

"You're right, Pix, you aren't a baby. But you aren't grown-up either. Doesn't matter anyhow, you will always be my baby, Gus. So shush."

She opened her eyes to a tissue being held out to her.

"Blow," he said.

"Seriously? For the love of God, Sam!"

"Just do it, brat," he teased. She blew gobs of grossness into his tissue. Served him right, she thought with sass.

"I want you to take these for pain and infection. Maybe later you can chill in the kitchen with us while we make dinner. And don't forget to wear that boot," he reminded her. "Do not get up without either Dean or I with you – and we'll know." He pointed to one of the many cameras he had set up to monitor her.

"House arrest? Come on, Sammy, this is bullshit."

"Watch that mouth of yours, and yeah you are, kinda. Swallow those pills and close those eyes. No arguing. See you when you wake up, babydoll. "He kissed the crown of her head and whispered "love you" to her.

"I have no clue why you do, but I'm glad you do," she whispered back. And she meant it more than almost anything she had ever said in her life. And then, dreamless and painless sleep fell upon her like a gift from heaven above.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to post. As always, I own nothing Supernatural. The hammer falls hard on Krissy in this chapter. Watch for discipline. Hailstorm3, you always inspire me to do my very best. Go check her out – she's fabulous!**

 **Chapter 8**

"Again," Sam said.

"I can't Sammy, seriously, I hurt all over," she uncharacteristically whined

He focused his eyes directly on her. "I said, again." He was a boulder and he was not budging.

"I hate you – you're a sadistic asshole," she spit out, glaring at him.

The corners of his lips turned slightly up. "Oh-kay then, so that will be five more – again," he directed. He smiled at her while assessing her leg strength. She grit her teeth and pushed on the leg press.

It had only been a few days since her suicide attempt, but Sam and Dean agreed that jumping directly into their rules, expectations, and schedule had to begin right away. They had given her a few days to adjust to her self-inflicted injury, and then sat her down to tell her what they expected of her. She was becoming an out-of-control brat and they had no and problem assessing what needed to be done to turn her around.

FLASHBACK TO EVENTS LEADING TO "LAYING DOWN THE WINCHESTER LAW":

Sam held Gus' last two heavy-duty pain meds in his callused hand. She had been asking for over an hour and he knew she really shouldn't need them by this point. It was only until she stopped asking and he saw her on his monitor, curled up in a ball, that he made his move. He wasn't trying to be cruel; in fact it was the opposite. Sam knew addiction in the purest form and he would not allow that to happen to Pixie. It hadn't been easy to let her go so long. Watching her cry into her fluffy pink pillow hurt him, but he remained determined for her sake to stay strong. He swallowed hard – God, it was so agonizing for him to stomach this whiny, suicidal girl he named Gus because she was such an ass kicker. After these two pills it would be Advil and grit. He and Dean agreed that she didn't need an addiction to opiates added to her already full plate.

He stepped into her room and stopped at the head of her bed, stroking her hair from behind. She twisted her face up to him, eyes conveying hurt and pain. She saw he held her meds and made an audible sigh.

"Oh my God, Sammy, I thought you forgot me," she murmured, holding her hand up for him to drop the pills into. Her eyebrows knitted together and her mouth formed a small pout when he didn't readily release them to her.

Sam looked down at her, hating all of this. "I'd never forget you or your pain, Tink, but we need to talk," he said, moving around and sitting next to her on the edge of the bed.

Her face immediately darkened. She didn't want to talk. Sam's "talks" never ended well for her and it was always something she didn't want to hear, or know, or experience. I mean, how much was one person supposed to take? Did these Winchester guys know what a freaking drag that were sometimes, always nagging about this and that, always "reminding" her of things, on and on blah blah blah. They sure loved to hear themselves talk. And she was stuck with them. She loved them, and they drove her crazy.

"Talk then, what is it NOW?" she snapped at him. "Such assholes," she said under her breath.

His arm reached out like lightening around her and held her close by the waist. His arms were so long they easily wrapped around her and then some. "You need to watch your tone," he said in his low Sam voice. She struggled against his hold but he held on tight.

"Stop right now, Pix. I'm not hurting you, this is me. I want your attention and I want your FULL attention. You and your smart mouth," he said staring at her with sharp reprimanding eyes. "You can give me your attention now like a mature person or you can give it to me with a red ass."

Krissy blinked. Sam had never spoken to her like that. She didn't like it, not one bit. She stopped struggling against him. The way he was looking at her, so frustrated, she knew he wouldn't hesitate on following through with his statement. Sammy didn't threaten really. He used his tone to warn, and he meant what he said. Oh how she missed the old pliable Sam, the one she could move around so easily. He had been so fun to manipulate back then.

"What do want to talk about?"

He kept his arm around her while passing the pills to her with his other hand. He looked at her solemnly. "This is it for you, Gus. No more narcotics after these two. I've been slowly weaning you off – you've been on them way too long as it is. We don't want you to have any trouble, you follow?" She took her two pills quietly and thought for a few. She snuggled into his armpit (a habit he found a little odd and a lot gross – but she was his Tink, so he allowed it). In a muffled voice he heard her say "Good call, Samson." Sam thanked his stars that she was being so compliant. He held onto her because he knew what was coming. Compliancy might become very rare in the near future.

BACK TO CURRENT TIME:

She had gone to take a nap after the grueling workout Sam had put her through. She hated that he knew exactly how far to push her and then when to pull back. She hurt in muscles she didn't even know she had. She thought he was being way too hard on her, expecting way too much so soon. That thought was soon forgotten when her stomach rolled from hunger. She threw on her pink Anime slippers and padded down the hall to the kitchen.

She was surprised to see both of her brothers just putting dinner on th table. Sammy smiled at her. "Go wash up, Pix. We'll have a nice dinner and spend some time together."

"You mean like go chill and watch a movie after," she asked, fishing for information.

Dean looked over at her and winked. "Yeah, something like that. Now sit."

Dinner was blessedly normal. Sam and Dean watched as Krissy ate her chicken, rice, and side salad. Her stitched arm was exposed and was clearly giving her a rough time, but she didn't ask for any help or special favors. Every time she winced Sammy felt his stomach tighten. It was hard not to want to fix her every hurt. He knew he had to be more firm with her, but that didn't mean it was easy for him. He knew she was getting out of hand and he had to put a stop to it. No matter what it took.

She waited for them to speak. Dean had practically told her it was time for a family meeting. And Sammy's smile had looked forced when she came into the kitchen. This sucked. This was her life now. Nobody was saying a word even though all the food was eaten, and she was getting anxious. She had to hear how her new life would be ruled. Finally she blurted, "So, do you guys want me to start calling you "Sir" or some bullshit like that, because if you think…"

Sam looked at her and genuinely grinned. It was a relief. "Jesus, no Gus, none of that. Shit, no. But I assume from your question that you're ready to hear what Dean and I have planned for you?"

She nodded.

"What's that, Tink? I can't hear a nod," Sam said seriously.

"Yes, I'm ready to hear you stupid rules, ya nerd," she said seriously back to him.

Dean and Sam shared their "communication look". No turning back. All in. Let's do this. Dean spoke first. He looked sternly at her, green eyes burning a hole through her dark brown orbs.

"Okay, kid, we've had it up to here (he motioned with his hand above his head) with your smart mouth and attitude. We're genuinely afraid to leave you alone to the point we have installed surveillance on you 24/7. That's how much you mean to us. We love joking, sarcasm – all that. But as of right now, this very minute, your snarky comments and general lack of respect and common courtesy have ended. This is how it will work. You will get three verbal warnings – we call them strikes. We will count your strikes when you get them so you know exactly where you are with your shitty attitude. Third strike earns you a punishment. Understand?"

She immediately looked at Sam for support. He shook his head at her. She hated him. She hated them both. Most of all she hated her father for bringing her into this life and leaving her alone in it. She hated the friends who gave her hope and then left her hopeless. She hated the man who haunted her dreams and left her violated and got away with it. She was full of hate right now. Her eye twitched.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he watched her process the information.

"Pixie, think before you speak. Breathe. Use your tools. We aren't your enemy," he said slowly.

She scoffed at them both. "You have GOT to be kidding me. Punishment? Really?"

Dean continued, deadpanning her. "Yeah, really. Now, it's simple. Punishments will depend on your infractions. A small infraction will earn a small punishment. A large infraction will earn a large punishment. A complicated infraction will earn a complicated punishment. Dean pointed his finger at her to drive his final sentence home. "Straight out lying/disobedience will earn you a red ass punishment to the point that we feel you will remember how seriously we take lying and disobedience, so hopefully you will never do it again." His eyes and voice softened. "Krissy, we never want to do that, so please make sure we don't have to. You have to listen to what we tell you, because in this life it could mean life or death. Lying, well, lying is unacceptable. Oh, I almost forgot. Lying and disobedience are an automatic Strike Three. No exceptions." He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

She was stunned. These guys were out of their minds.

"But that's… abusive. Wrong. You can't do that to me. I'll leave if you try. You'll cause me … ummm… to regress! Yep. Regress. That's a thing. You guys wanna beat me and make me regress?" She held her head high and kept control of her voice. She looked down and began to pick at her cuticles.

Sam knew that was her "tell". He took his arm and slung it over her shoulder. He raised his eyebrows at her. He wasn't angry – but looked at her intently, all business.

"Gus, you have spun lie upon lie to us. You have gone against every rule we have set in place since you lost the others. We let you live alone against our better judgment because you convinced us you could handle it and check in with us. You MOVED without telling us, Gus. You have forced this – not us. What possible explanation could you have? Your behavior created this, so I don't want to hear any more attempts to play on our sympathies or worse, try to manipulate us. It's over, Pixie, and I'm not kidding with you. Dean and I have come up with a daily schedule that you will start following beginning tomorrow. He handed her a piece of paper neatly formatted. It looked somewhat like this:

GUS' DAILY SCHEDULE:

7a Up/Shower/Make Bed

7:45 Breakfast/Cleanup

8:15 Wound Care/Checks

8:45 Therapy (To Be Discussed)

10-12 Physical Training/Weapons (Dean and Sam)

12 Lunch/Cleanup

12:45 Lore/Research (Dean and Sam)

2-4 Homeschool (Sam)

4-5 Review Day/Strikes/Goals Met

5-6 Dinner Prep Together

6-7 Dinner

7-9 Free Time

9pm Bed

Krissy looked over her new life on paper. She coolly slid it back to Sam with one word.

"Unacceptable."

Dean's face began to change color, creeping up from the bottom from white to red. Sam gave his brother a slight head shake, silently communicating to stand down. He knew he had to be the one, not Dean. He knew Tinks. She EXPECTED Dean to flip his lid. It was imperative to him not only to make her see that she had no option but to follow their rules, but to also catch her off-guard where they were concerned. He knew she saw him differently, but this was his one opportunity to drive home to her that this was his doing. He would not lose her and he would not watch her turn into a smartass know-it-all.

He slid the paper back to her and said, "You will do it, or you'll do it with a red rear end. Either way, you're doing it, Guster. You don't have to like it, but you DO have to do it." He leaned back in his chair, looking the total opposite of Dean (who y now had turned an almost purplish-red color of angry. He was basically an angry Smurf color.

"Therapy? Homeschool? NO," she said defiantly. "I don't want therapy, Hitler. I don't want to talk to some stranger about it. You can't make me." Her voice was shaking and her hands were, too. She was cracking. He thought about giving her a strike on the Hitler comment, but decided to let that comment go. Tears began to leak down her face. Sam thought some day they had to come to an end, but he was wrong. This was his sister, and these were big things that would leave her scarred for the rest of her life. Tears and anger. She really was a Winchester.

"I'll do your stup…, I mean, I'll do the other stuff, but don't either of you dare ask me to talk to a stranger. Fuck. Fuck you for making me cry! Fuck you for making me talk about it." She slid her stitched arm across the table and made a gasping sound. It took every bit of Sam not to reach out and comfort her.

"Enough," Sam sad softly, somehow quieting her more effectively than any full blown Sam-yelling could ever bring.

"We never said you'll be talking to a stranger, did we? Answer, please."

"No, but…"

"So, no is the answer, correct?" he asked.

"Yes, Sammy."

He and Dean shared another look.

"You have one strike for outright refusal and one strike for your general foul mouthed response. What happens on three, Gus?"

She shifted in her chair uncomfortably. "Punishment," she said sulkily as she slid down in her chair.

"That's right. Good girl," he praised.

"I can't even say how I feel?" she asked.

Sam reached for her cuticle-torn hand. "Of course you can, but you need to tighten up the way you do it. I'm saying don't flip out over every little thing or my newest nickname for you will be DJ – for Dean Junior." He gave her a grin and a hand squeeze. She snorted back. Once again Sammy was stymied by this complicated brother-sister relationship dynamic. It would turn on a dime, and did for them continually during all the years to come.

"DJ? What the hell," Dean muttered, clearly amused but trying to remain stoic.

Sam continued. "Okay, Tink, about the therapy. Honey, you need it. More than you know. Don't be scared. Our good friend Jody Mills is taking time out of her schedule to meet with you. She's no stranger to the supernatural and the hunting world, so you'll be safe. Plus, she's a Sheriff so she may be able to help us hunt him down in an above-the-board way as well."

She squeezed her eyes shut as an unrelenting tear slid through. "Do I have to be alone?" she whispered.

"Absolutely not," Sam assured her, smacking a kiss on her brow. "Do you want me to sit in?"

"I want you both to," she answered, earning a shocked look from Dean. He was surprised she wanted him there. Sisters, he thought, confused. Confused, but happy.

"Ok then, it's settled. We start tomorrow," he said.

"Tomorrow?" she whispered.

"Tomorrow," he repeated, sliding her up and onto his lap. She didn't resist. She was shaking. "It will be okay, Gus, I promise," he murmered to her. She rested her head on his shoulder, as she would hundreds if not thousands of times in her lifetime with him – even as a fully grown adult woman. It was just the way it was with them. They were Sammy and Gus. Dean stood around and looked handsome, haha.

"I'm scared, Sam. I mean, really scared."

"Hush, Tink, I won't let anything bad happen. You trust me, right?" he asked.

She nodded into his shoulder as he brought his arm up around her, holding her tight and slightly rocking her. He whispered in his special Sam-way to her until he soon felt her drooling on his shoulder. Sleep. Finally. For all the fight she had, for all the obnoxious brattyness she expressed, she was still just a girl with only himself and his brother for family. She needed them, and they needed her. Asleep on his shoulder, he easily stood and carried her down to Dean's room where he had retreated to. He threw his phone over, grinning. Dean grinned back and snapped a few drooling pictures of their sister. Sam gave him thumbs up and went to tuck her into bed, then wiped the drool off her face chin. He kissed her forehead. "Love you Pixie-Tink," he whispered to her. "Bigger," she said in sleep-talk back to him.

I highly doubt that, he said to himself.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: HI everyone … I love the SPN Family. Thank you for reading and leaving your comments… Krissy may become a continuing series of different events, I'm not sure yet. I can promise you that THIS story of hers will be completed soon and I already have an idea featuring a different character and the boys! BUT, today we find out more details of what happened to her, so watch the triggers ok? Once we move on, remember, Krissy will always be family in my stories, always will be there with them, and she still has a way to go. Hope you enjoy! Hailstorm3 – Thank you for all the encouragement and courage you have given me! #AKF**

 **Chapter 9**

It had been a week since Sam removed her stitches. He tried very hard to be gentle, but her cuts were so deep. He was grateful he didn't need Dean to hold her down, though. She sat and tried her best to be good. He concentrated on removing them one at a time, focusing on her porcelain scarred skin rather than the splat of tears that came down each time he used his instruments. He handed her a tissue.

"Blow," he said firmly. It had become kind of a thing with them.

She blew into the tissue as hard as she could, hoping to gross him out. That was **her** part of the thing. Hadn't worked yet. He snapped off his latex gloves and buried the tissue in it.

She looked down at the red line left behind, sliding down the inside of her arm, ending with a bright red short line ending at her wrist. There was no denying it – it stood out and was ugly as hell.

Sam reached into his magic bag and gave her a special scar-fading lotion that she was sure he overpaid for – she would use it religiously for his sake. She asked him for some Vitamin E oil as well, which he also placed between them on the table. She wasn't fooling herself with special lotions. That scar would stand out on her china white skin until the day she died, along with that hideous bite mark on her neck. She wasn't a vain girl, but she always loved her skin and took very good care of it. Her dad used to tell her that she got that from her mother. Well, Krissy-Gus-Pix-Tinker-Pixie-Tink, there ya go. Fucked up the one beautiful gift her mother gave her that could have been for eternity. She kept her head down.

"You ok, Tinker? All done here, honey," Sam said, watching her with concern, but trying to sound upbeat.

She looked up at him and then down at her arm. She reached up to the scar on her neck. She looked despondent.

"Nobody will want me," she choked out, eyes down.

Sam looked at her, baffled. What the heck was going on in her head? (This time, he thought wryly.)

He reached out and placed his ginormous hands on each side of her head and lifted, so they could see each other face to face. He ran his thumbs under her eyes and kissed her forehead.

"That's bullshit , Pixie. We all have scars, baby." He let his hands fall to hers and he held them so gently, hands that had killed others easily with just the force he held behind them. "You are a beautiful girl, Gus. Since the day I met you, I thought what a pretty little girl you were and what a shame it was that you were dragged into this Godforsaken life. But then again, that life brought you to me, and even though it's been rough; I'm a better person because of you." He continued.

"Some of our scars are inside, some are outside – but we all got 'em, BrownEyes. (OMG Krissy thought – enough with the nicknames! But in her heart she smiled a little). Know what they are? They're indisputable proof of the battles you brought yourself through. So don't you hate them, don't you for one second think you have to hide them to "find someone who will want you." Fuck that thinking right now Tinkerbell. Not that I'm ever letting anyone near you," he said with a wink. He booped his nose into hers for effect.

They were getting ready for therapy. She like Jody a lot. Jody never pushed her to say anything she didn't want to say – but up until today it had all been "feelings talk", as Dean would put it. But today was the nitty-gritty. She pulled Sam aside with a tug on the back of his shirt.

"What's up – you ok? Nervous?" he asked, cupping the back of her head and giving it a light rub.

"Yes – well, no. Sort of. I feel sick," she confessed.

He felt her forehead for a fever. A little clammy, but not feverish. She was just freaking. Sam knew she had already taken her prescribed anti-anxiety med, because he still handed them to her and would continue to do so for the unforeseeable future.

She looked up to him with her brown eyes and beauty mark, managing to keep it together. "I'm going to talk about it," she said flatly.

"What have I told you, Tink? "It" was "rape". It's okay to say rape. I know it's an ugly word, but by replacing that word with "it", well - honey, it's a way of avoiding. And you can say anything you need in there with us. I'n not trying t push you… But I think the more you get used to saying that ugly word, the less power it will have over you. What do you think? Maybe less nightmares, too?" He slung his arm over her shoulder and gave her a squeeze, and a pause. "Gus – I'm waiting," he said as he looked down at her expectantly for her answer. Even when being tender with her, he had been sticking to the rules he and Dean had set out for her. And she knew that.

"It's HARD to, Sam. But, I know you're right. God, I hate this," she added.

"Me too, babe," he answered. "Pix, please try not to be scared. We're here. Talking will help us as a family, and help Jody and we find him."

"I need help to talk about the rape," she said, being sure to begin using the proper word for what happened. Her eyes peered up at him pleadingly. "I mean, ya know, MEDICAL help?" she looked at him expectantly. He raised his eyebrows at her as it dawned on him what she was asking for. She wanted something to "help her". He closed his eyes and felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet.

"No. We can't do it that way, baby. I'm sorry. Cas is on call at a moments notice,ok? He promised he would help you if you need it. I don't want you "helped along" with drugs. You need to stay sharp and your mind has to be sending you what you need to say. I don't want you dulled – what you need now is to be brave. And I know how very, very brave you are." He had kneeled down to be more on her level. "Tell me you're brave, Tink. Tell yourself you are."

She looked over at his hazel/brown eyes, disappointed but knowing now that when Sammy said "no" he meant "no".

"I'm brave, Sam." She reached out, took his hand, and walked into the library with him.

Jody and Dean were sitting in the comfy chairs, coffee cups on the small table between them. After hugs from them both, Krissy sat on the sofa across from them with Sam next to her. Dean gave her an encouraging look and Jody smiled her perfectly calming smile at her. On the coffee table were four waters, tissue, and Sam's coffee. The puking bowl was on the floor at their feet, just in case.

"Honey, how are you?" Jody asked, concerned by how pale she was. "You know, you look awful pale to me. We don't have to do this today, do we boys." She asked, sending them her "mom look."

Before either of them could answer, Krissy jumped in.

"Yeah, I do, Jody. It's "now or never nut-up time." I guess if I have the Winchester name attached to me now, then I should show I have some of that Winchester courage, right?" she asked.

Nobody said a word for a few long minutes.

Dean finally spoke. "Courage? You must be blind. Courage runs through your veins, kid. "And that was there long before you became one of us," he finished.

Krissy was glowing at what Dean had said.

"You're your own hero, Guster. You make us proud. You make ME proud. If you don't know by now – you're the one thing that was missing from our lives and we didn't even know it. YOU, you little pain in the ass, have made us a family. We have a family again." Sam's arm was around her back of the sofa. She slid closer to him and he let his arm fall across her shoulders. She looked intently at each one of them.

All she said was "I'm ready." Then she was down the rabbit hole.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"I had moved from Wichita to a nearby town without telling Sammy and Dean. I thought that way I could hit the big town and also spread myself out to the smaller areas. But the real reason was I thought I could do it on my own. It was all ego. I mean, they barely called anymore and it felt like I was doing us all a favor. That, and I wanted to be a big shot grown up," she added sheepishly. "I had almost been gone nine months and I thought I was doing pretty well. I didn't know. I didn't understand, you know? I was so busy looking for and killing monsters that I forgot about people. I got lost in my own personas. I was great interviewing and all that, but I didn't stay sharp where my everyday acquaintances were concerned. I just wanted to kill monsters and stay off the Winchesters radar. And it worked for awhile. I thought I was doing okay," she repeated.

She reached over to Sam's shirt and rolled down the sleeve. He was used to this. She gripped the cuff and brought it to her lap, squeezing it and rolling and unrolling it with her cuticle-healing fingers. Sam was ashamed and embarrassed he had let her slide so much. He looked over at his brother and saw a similar look on his face. Sam shook his head as if to say "this is on me" – Dean gave him a sharp look back. He had let so much time go by that he gave her the impression that she was a nuisance to them. He was her guardian. Yes, he was caught up in some deep shit of his own, but that was no excuse. No excuse at all. She held his wrist tightly under her nose, breathing in the smells of Sam. Using the breathing he had taught her. Nobody had ever cared about her as much as he did, and that was a fact. Not even her dad invested so much time into her. He loved her, for sure, but he was a hunter of a different sort. He was lost after mom died. Poor Daddy. She didn't think of Sam like that, though. He was her Sam. Not a dad. Not a brother. Something in between that saved her ass and held her close.

"Martin was an acquaintance, not a friend. I'd go to him with questions or to check out bodies that I thought were possibly supernaturally related."

"Martin's last name?" Jody asked, scribbling down notes.

"Oh yeah, it was … is… Hollis. He was the local undertaker who worked closely with the coroner. Owned a funeral home on the outskirts of town and did all the embalming after the coroner would release the bodies."

She began to gag, slightly leaning forward. Sam held up the bucket with one hand and kept his hand on her back with the other. She nodded no, but pointed to the water. After a few gulps she brought Sam's hand back up to her nose and held the cuff there. She breathed deeply.

Dean was riveted. He had a NAME. Oh thank you God in heaven or whoever or wherever you are, he thought to himself.

"Did he know you were sixteen?" Jody asked. The boys looked at Gus with interest.

"Oh, no, I convinced him I was a very young-looking twenty-one with my fake ID." She shook her head. "Funny thing, after, I realized I hadn't convinced him of anything." Tears flooded her eyes. Sam put the tissues on her lap. He knew she would need them.

Jody looked at Sam and Dean expectantly – "Do we need to take a break?" she asked them.

Again, Krissy spoke before them. "No, no breaks. No excuses. No running. Just the truth now." She said firmly. She grabbed Sammy's hand again.

"I didn't know he was watching me. I mean, I knew he kind of had a crush on me, but you guys know how that works in the business." Sam and Dean gave her confused looks.

She was incredulous. "What? You think you two are the only one who've used their eyes and their dimples to get information? You use what you have to get what you need. It's as simple as that."

"But, Gus… it's different for us. Look at us. We're grown men. I'm six four and Dean in six one. We can handle ourselves. I would have kicked your ass if I had known you were out there flirting for information."

"Well, Sam… ya didn't really make me all that much of your priority now did ya?" she stated pointedly.

Sam looked down, unable to disagree. She was right. Fucking-A, she was.

"You are right that I let you get beyond my reach. My point still stands," he said dejectedly.

She kissed his hand. "You're point is correct. I was using everything I had seen being done the wrong way. You taught me better. Shit, my own conscious told me better. But I was so fucking determined to show you that I didn't need you. That I didn't need anyone. So I used my smile and my hair flips to get information. And I got GOOD information, guys. I fucking saved lives! I was good. But then … " she closed her eyes and moved Sam's hand to her forehead.

"You're doing so well, Pixie. Keep going. Drink this water. You heard me, drink," Sam instructed. She was in her own mind, now. He opened the bottle and held it to her lips. "Drink," he said firmly. She opened her mouth and held the bottle and drank until she was calm.

"Jeesh, sorry guys. Sorry, Samson," she apologized.

He rubbed her back, long strokes up and down. "Take your time, Tinks," he smiled at her.

"A week before you guys… found me… I had been following up on a lead and drove out to his office. I didn't expect anything different than the usual. I mean, I'd known him for months. I had turned my head to look from the body over to the file on him and was sucker swung by my pony tail into a wall face first. Then yanked up by - by my hair into the cement wall to the temple and when I woke up, I was tied to pole with that waxy rope, ya know?"

Everyone nodded in unison.

"He held me there four days." She looked over at Sam. "He, ummm, raped me repeatedly. He cracked a baseball bat across my head, except it was one of those child-sized bats, you know? He beat me in the face. He cut me. He wanted me to scream a lot. He bit me over and over. No matter how hard I fought, he always had a way to overpower me. Not supernatural strength – mostly drugs. I couldn't see him sometimes," she began gagging. "But I smelled him always. Oh Sammy the smell I can smell him now – help me!" she begged. Vomit splashed into the bucket as he held back her shoulders. "Ok Gus, it's ok. You did great. I want you to stop talking about this now. Shhhh… you are right here with me and Dean and Jody. Come on, relax with me. Take a drink and rinse out your mouth," he said to her quietly. Dean and Jody had slipped out as Sam worked with her to bring her back to the present.

"I – I can't stop smelling him, Sam," her voice had risen to a fevered pitch. "Help me, help me, Sammy please," she whimpered.

Sam took her and turned her to her side and raised her up with his arm around her waist. He held her against him, rocking her slack body back and forth slowly. He ran his hand through her pixie hair over and over until she slowed her crying and babbling. "Hush, shhh, no more getting sick – you'll dehydrate, Tinkerbell. You're here and you're so brave. I'm here," he murmured to her. He shifted to the end of the comfy couch and brought a pillow down to rest her head on. She curled her arms around his waist and pressed her head into his stomach with a sigh. He let her sleep on his lap from sheer emotional exhaustion. He didn't leave her. How could he? WHY would he? He ran his fingers across her cheeks when she began to cry, speaking to her in whispers to bring her from her nightmares. She slept until Sam drove the monster smell away from her mind and filled it instead with smells of pine and soap and Sam-smell. He didn't want her to wake up alone, so he stayed there until her eyes opened sleepily.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Hi guys! I'm sure many of you know this chapter has been coming, so here it is. It's the hardest thing Sam ever has to do where Krissy is concerned. There IS Sammy discipline coming – but it's a two-parted arc and I wanted to give you guys something! I don't own anything Supernatural.

 **Chapter 10:**

Krissy had slept the past few days away, off and on. Dean and Sam felt she needed some time to unwind from her intense therapy session. Most of the days had been naps, TV, and a few movies.

She lay on the couch watching the credits from "The Wizard of Oz" rolling. She never got tired of that movie. Her brothers were winding down their day as well. It was hard for Dean to hear what had been done to Krissy, but for Sam it was an emotional upheaval that he set aside to deal with later. He put his own emotions aside, because he felt the best thing was to focus on her. She got up from the couch in her fuzzy pink robe and went to give them hugs.

"Turning in a little early, Tink?" Sam asked as he closed his laptop.

"Yeah, Sammy, there's just something about a huge barfing therapy session with following flashback that just tire a girl out," she said sarcastically.

Dean looked over at her. "You okay, though? I mean, as okay…" he just kind of trailed off. He didn't know what to say to her.

"Yeah, I am. Ya know, you're just a master at the art of language - has anyone ever told you that blondie? "she snickered at Dean.

"Well, if you're really okay then I think I'm taking my little bro out for a few tall ones, okay with you Sammy?"

Sam looked over at Tink, looking for any of her telltale signs of upset.

"Tell ya what, Pix. Go wash your face and stuff and I'll come see ya. If I feel like it's okay, I'll go out with Dean for a few, cool?"

"Cool," she answered. "Anyhow, Cass is usually around for a shout out right?"

"Right," he said. Dean was already lacing his boots. Sam shot him a "Don't be an asshole" look. Dean shrugged. He was an asshole, so what was Sammy's problem?

Fifteen minutes later Gus was already falling asleep. Sam ran his hands through her hair one last time before checking the monitors and heading toward the door. He quietly snuck back to check for a fake-out and saw her even breathing. He went for the door and kept it slightly ajar.

The boys headed out for a few and money was made, semi- passion was traded, and before they knew it the bar was closing.

"Shit Dean, I didn't realize we've been gone so long." He checked his phone - nothing. No fly- bys by Cas either. "Let's get outta here," he mumbled to his brother. He didn't like leaving her alone this long.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

The bunker was quiet, just as he expected it to be. It was nice to get out with Dean and relax for a few hours. Gus had really been bringing it in therapy and her behavior. The information she brought to them brought them one step closer to the monster they all wanted their time alone with. The timeline in the library was almost complete. She was slowly getting herself there.

Dean closed the door to his room and Sam did a quick check on Gus. Not in bed. He peeked into the bathroom - that was empty. He swept the room with his brown hunter eyes that adjusted so quickly to the dark and saw nothing. Just as he was about to call Dean, he heard movement in the far corner of the room. He squinted around the bed frame and heard Pixie. She had her tablet open and was singing in a whisper "If birds fly over the rainbow, why then oh why can't I?" She was wrapped in her comforter, so he turned toward her to snatch her up and put her back in bed. She looked up at him and smiled a big smile.

"Heyy Samson – have fun out in the real world?" she asked. Except the words came out "reahhhl werrrld". He could see her eyes were glassy and red even in the dark. Oh come on, he thought. He did not want to deal with this right now. Or ever, even. He pushed his anger down to a flaccid level. He did not want a screaming teenage girl scene right now, but he was furious, and there was no excuse she could give him that he would find acceptable.

He tilted his head to the side and reached down for her. As he lifted her he was hit with simultaneous smells, sounds, and thoughts. She reeked of tequila. And pee. He heard an empty bottle roll across the floor as he began to lift her up. His thoughts were already moving through his head on how he would deal with her.

He tightened his hold. Already knowing the obvious answer, he asked her, "Guster, have you been drinking? "

"Nooooo, Sammy! Drinking is ab-so-lutely a definite no-no on my brother Sam's list of things I better not EVER be doing. Or caught doing. I mean, doing. Right, yah, doing." She looked him in the face and said "Nope, no drinking allowed by me. Not this girl. That would be a badddd thing." She emphasized her protest with a light slap/pat on his cheek. He didn't give her his half-grin like she thought he would.

Instead, he gave her the slightest of shakes, still in his arms. His face was a blank canvas, and then he frowned down at her. In a quiet, curt voice he said to her, "Do not lie to me little sister."

"I'm not – I'm not lying, Sam! Fuck! Can't a girl just chill in her room and watch her favorite movie? Over and over? All night? You're so – ugggh -such – oooh - you Winchester! Always judging – I've just been sitting here…"

"Drinking a whole bottle of Tequlia. I know what you have been doing, Krissy, because ya haven't made it too difficult to figure out. You're fucking five feet tall, are you KIDDING me? You're drunk and you pissed yourself. You're lucky you don't have alcohol poisoning," he said, chastising her.

He set her on her bed, and for the first time in a long time didn't feel any pity or sadness for her, only anger that she deliberately disobeyed a rule he particularly set in place for her for a particular reason. Sam was methodical – there was always a reason why he said or did a particular thing. There were her possible med interactions. The very real chance that she would use it as a crutch and delay her progress. Most importantly, Sam knew that Lee Chambers had been a good man, but he also had been a serious alcoholic. It was hard to keep those kinds of secrets in their business, and he made it HIS business to know everything he could about both of Gus' parents, so he could be a better brother to her. He would not allow his little sister drive herself down that road.

"Pixie, you're lying straight to my face. That's a problem. You smell like MEXICO, Krissy! Lie down and I'll handle you in the morning. Do not move your ass from that bed, and you wait for me to come for you in the morning." He tilted his head slightly once more and sent her a look that gave her a sobering thought. Something just outside of her alcohol-addled memory.

He got up from her side and began to stride across the floor.

"Saaaaaam….. You're scaring me 'cuz you never call me Krissy. Don't scare me" she whimpered … "and think I peed myself," she added drunkenly.

"You DID pee yourself, Trixie, I already told you that. You're drunk and we will talk about this in the morning. Now, GO TO SLEEP. I don't want to hear a peep out of you." He said all of this without raising his voice above speaking-level, which was way scarier than being yelled at by Sam. Sam blew off steam if he yelled, then calmed down quickly. Soft-talking-angry-Sam was a whole different level.

She noticed he didn't even tuck her in.

"But you always hug me Sammy. Always, and tuck me in."

He turned around and gave her a quick hug and sloppy tuck. "Go to sleep Gus I am not kidding you," he said firmly in her ear.

"But I smell like peeeee" she wailed.

"Deal with it," he said as he began to close the door. Almost shut, he reopened it and said one word. "Three." The door closed firmly behind him.

"Ohhhh, fuck." She remembered.

A/N: Sorry guys, I know this is short, but I really wanted to post something. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know what's coming next. But, it's important – it will serve Krissy well in her years to come. So get ready!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: There is spanking in here, so avoid if you need to. Hailstorm3 – read her stuff! My friend who gave me confidence. Shout to WaywardDaughter18 as well. Thanks, guys.**

Chapter 11:

She awoke to her shade being pulled up and curtains opened wide. Light flooded her room and prisms bounced off her walls and ceilings from the crystals she had hung about. Sam stood at the window and stared into the new day. It was early, the new morning sun just rising brightly above the horizon.

"What time is it? What's going on?" she asked him as a lightning bolt of pain slammed into her head. She barely remembered the night before, yet, and lifted her hand to block the sunlight pouring into her room. She was vaguely aware of dampness clinging to her from her comforter. And a funky smell to go along with it.

Another jolt of pain hit her in the back of the head and crawled to her temple. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Sam was dressed in jeans and his blue and white flannel with a white tee underneath. He slowly walked over and handed her two Advil and a bottled water. "Take these" was all he said to her. She could smell his clean Sam-smell and his breath smelled like cinnamon. He stood beside her bed, arms casually at his sides while he waited for her to obey him. Krissy was not a stupid girl. She was an attuned hunter under all the trauma she had endured and she had red flags going off everywhere. She threw the pills in her mouth and drank them down. She handed him back the bottle. He reached out but didn't take it back. They both had their hands on the bottle.

"More," he said. She looked at him quizzically. "More what, Nerdo," she said crankily.

Sam suppressed the urge to flip her over right then and there and give her the spanking she had been begging for over the past months.

"Krissy, drink ALL of that water, do you get me?" he said as he looked down at her impatiently. Now he placed his hand on his hip and shifted his weight from his right side to his left out of aggravation.

"Sammy, I – I don't know if I can. My stomach – it's not feeling good. I don't want to," she said, looking directly into his dark look. Even then, Sam thought "she had balls". His dark look had brought grown men – DEMONS even – to beg.

He laid the bottle on her lap as he placed his hands on the edge of her mattress so they were now completely eye to eye. "That was not a request. Now drink that water. You're dehydrated and you need it and you WILL drink it yourself or I will hold it up to your mouth and you will drink it with my help – am I making myself clear to you little sister?"

Little sister? Since when did he start referring to her that way? Her head hurt. Was that a new nickname? No, she was sure it wasn't. It was new, last night – she remembered him saying "Do not lie to me, little sister." Oh shit she did the math – this was not a term of endearment, it was what he was calling her when he was really pissed. It was that now, or Krissy. He hardly ever called her by her real name. She loved all his nicknames for her, even though she acted as if she didn't.

She peered into his dark brown pools and saw emotions unfamiliar to her being sent from them. They fought, sure, but it was never like this. Intense. Harsh. Raw. Her head pounded. Krissy felt very, very little both physically and emotionally. She opened her mouth – she wanted nothing more than to get herself out of the mess she made. Sam was reasonable. He loved her. He was angry and disappointed but he would listen. She was sure of it.

"You better be opening that mouth to finish this water," he stated, reaching for the bottle.

"Sam – Sammy please I feel so sick. Please just listen to me," she said as her voice broke. No crying, Chambers-Winchester, she thought. He just HAD to listen to her and she knew she could get him to understand. See reason.

"Is that a no?" he asked.

"Why are you being so mean to me?" she snapped. She snatched the bottle from his hand and threw it across the room. "You won't listen to me! Just listen okay? Fuck," she said with anger.

Sam walked to where the water landed and brought it back. He sat on the edge of her bed while he unscrewed the cap. "Open your mouth, Krissy," he said slowly. "Drink this water, or I will help you - it's your choice, not mine." He was glaring at her. She had never noticed how his eyes flashed with bright shots of amber when he was angry, but then again, she had never seen him this angry before.

"Fine I'll drink your fucking water, Sam. Oh, I mean Big Brother Sam. Big Brother is mad at me and I'm supposed to fall apart," she taunted. She grabbed the water and drank it all in one long gulp. She crushed the plastic and threw it across the room again.

Sam stood up and stepped away before he blew his top. He could not let this be in anger. Although he was angry, it was so much more. He took a few breathes and turned back, pointing his finger directly at her.

"You have twenty minutes. Strip this bed and throw everything including what you have on into the wash. Then take a quick shower. Meet Dean and I in the kitchen at – he looked at his watch – 6:30. Bring your I-Pad and your phone," he ordered.

"Twenty minutes isn't enough time – you're out of your mind!" she yelled.

"Now you have eighteen so I'd move my ass if I were you," he said calmly. "And watch that tone."

"I fucking hate you – HATE YOU!" she screamed at him as she started tearing the linens off her bed. God, they reeked and so did she.

"See you in the kitchen in seventeen minutes – being late is counted against you,'' he said. "So are tantrums," he added.

He turned to leave but heard her mumble something under her breath. Typical Gus. "Have something to add?" he asked.

"Fuck you," she glared at him.

Sam kept his poker face. He just could not conceive in his logical mind that she was behaving this way after what she did the night before. He had to put a stop to this behavior and he knew he would. She was just digging herself in deeper and deeper. "See you in fifteen minutes," he said.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

She came into the kitchen with her hair slicked back, instead of the usual pixie look. Sam and Dean both sat, just staring at her. She had black tights on with a black tank and an off the shoulder dark grey sweater. Black boots up to her knees finished her look.

Sam looked again at his watch.

"It's 7:15, Dean. What time did you get to the kitchen?"

Dean spoke back to his brother, now ignoring Krissy totally. "I was here at, hmmm… I'm pretty sure the meet time was 6:30. So yeah, I was here at 6:30 like you were."

Krissy crossed her arms and huffed. "This show is so boring and I've seen it soooo many times," she said dramatically. "It's the one where the brothers…"

She didn't even realize Sam had moved. He was sitting, and then he was behind her, taking her by the shoulders and firmly guiding her to the chair between them. He was so fucking fast. "Sit. Now," was all he said. He still had his hands on her shoulders but didn't push down to make her sit. Instead, he took the side of his foot and placed it behind her knee so she had no other option but to sit. He knew how to handle her. He would never hurt her, but he knew how to get her to cooperate with them. So, sit in the chair she did, even though she didn't want to.

"Well, what do you want me to do? Apologize? Cry? So I drank some booze – not like either of you get to judge me for that. I watched a movie. Big fucking deal," she said. "It's nothing the two of you haven't done hundreds of times yourselves."

Dean opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. His mind was spinning.

"Now you just wait a minute, little girl. Do you think this is about THAT? Well, it is, but… we just laid out all the rules for you less than a week ago. You KNOW them. Did you just somehow magically forget what we told you we expected from you? Did you not agree to follow those rules? Did we not make it explicitly clear what would happen if you didn't get with it and stop being such a brat?"

Dean waited. "Hello? Waiting for an answer here," he directed at her. He gave her a few to react and then brought it up a notch. "Krissy Chambers Winchester I want an answer right the fuck now!"

Krissy didn't react well to shouting. In fact, when shouting happened she felt more in control. She looked at him coolly and replied. "Yes, I was here for the teen girl Winchester Scared Straight Program. Yes, I got it. Yes, yes, yes, yes. Now, where are we at here, Dean?" She closed her eyes briefly as if to say "you bore me to tears."

Dean slammed his hand down on the table, expecting her to startle, but she didn't. Because Krissy was expecting it. Dean was Dean. She loved him. She loathed him sometimes. But he was predictable. Next he would…

Stand up and flip back his chair.

Standing up and flipping back his chair, Dean looked over to Sam. Sam nodded slightly with a grim look and his brother grabbed Baby's keys and went to the door. He looked back at Krissy and said "Welcome to the family, kid." With that he was out the door, Baby roaring down the road taking him off to finish up some research on Martin. He and Sammy thought it best for him to be gone for most of the day. Sam would call him later with the details.

She slid back her chair, but then it wasn't moving. Sam was holding it in place easily by the back of his hand. She tried moving it side to side but that fucker wasn't budging.

"Knock it off, Sam – I mean it! Let me up!" she barked.

Sam looked at her and let go. "You and I are having a talk in the library, little sister. Right now."

She got up to bolt to her room but he had his arm around her side, steering her into the library.

"I don't understand, Sam. We don't need to talk here," she said earnestly.

"Oh, we most certainly do, Krissy. Now you are going to sit and I am going to talk. You disrespect Dean and I both. I have seen, like, three tantrums just today, thrown bottles, heard lies, yelling, and in general watch you break every rule he and I have set out for you to follow and that you agreed to follow. Look at me, please. NOT TO MENTION that train wreck you downplayed about last night. Look at me," he said again, raising his voice just a notch. Not too much, just enough to get that attention he knew he would get.

She looked. He towered over her. "You understood that when your behaviors were bad, your consequences would match your behaviors, yes?"

"Yeah, Sam, but…"

"NO, Krissy. It's yes, not yeah. And there are no buts. Yes?" he said again.

"Yes, but I didn't do anything really bad. I was just being sixteen," she said with a sly look up at him, just tilting her head a little and lifting her eyebrows as if totally misunderstood.

"Bullshit. And you can stop with the sad looks and pity me face. Your behavior has been deplorable, Krissy. And not just last night. That's why we made the rules clear, so that when this day came you wouldn't be able to crocodile tear your way out of it or plead that you didn't understand. I can't let this go on with you. I won't. You stole alcohol. You were shitfaced. You put yourself at risk which pisses me off to no end. You refused me directly to my face this morning, and you told me to fuck off. You are allowed to feel any way you want, but you WILL give me the same respect I give you. You WILL do what is expected of you and you will not throw tantrums. You will take whatever punishment Dean and I see fit that matches your level of behavior. Are we finally communicating here, little sister? What was the last thing I said to you last night? Answer."

She looked down and began pulling on her cuticles. "Stop that and answer me," he said, pulling her hands apart and holding them in each of his. His hands were huge, and callused. Hers, not so much.

"Three," she whispered into her lap.

"My eyes are up here. Answer," he said again.

She struggled to look up at him. Sam felt himself waver. No. He couldn't let this slide. He loved her. He loved her so much that he knew she deserved what she was going to get from him.

She looked him in the eye. "Three," she said clearly, voice shaking.

"And what does three mean?" he asked quickly, not wanting to lose any momentum that was building in her mind between her behavior and what was coming.

"It's – it's – spanking. But please Sam, please just give me one more chance I promise I'll do better. I'll try harder. Please," she begged.

"You will do better and you will try harder, I know. You will lose your I-Pad for a month and your phone is mine until I say. You will only have it when necessary. You will apologize to Dean for being a disrespectful, foul-mouthed brat when he gets home. And you will do all of these things because you're getting the spanking you earned. I hope to God I never have to do this again, but that's not up to me, it's up to you," he said firmly. "I love you and won't let you behave this way without any consequences. And I can't let what happened to you cloud my judgment, either. You deserve every bit of this, little sister."

He stood up, dreading it but wanting it over so he could comfort her. He looked down at her and read her mind. "Running only makes it worse, so don't even think about it."

God – how did he read her mind, she wondered. She sat.

He rolled up his sleeves revealing his massive forearms. Holy fuck how had she never noticed them? He moved over to the open sided chair and sat. "Come here," he said somberly. It was important to him that she came to him. She had to walk to him and accept the responsibility of her actions. He has thought quite a bit about this all night.

She didn't move. She just looked at him, mortified.

"If I have to come and get you it will be double," he said in a matter-of-fact-tone. At least he hoped he was keeping his plan and voice together.

She stood up at that. "No – no – I'm trying," she said.

"Just bring your ass over here and I'll do the rest, now get over here now." She could tell he was getting aggravated.

She slowly walked over to him, eyes pleading with every step. Sam ignored them. As soon as she was beside him he bent her over at the waist and she was over his lap in an instant. He tilted her further over and lifted up her sweater that hung over her tights. Her hands grabbed hold of his calves and she braced herself.

The first swat landed square on her rear end and his hand covered her whole ass. It took the breath out of her. He began to talk to her as he laid his hand heavily over and over. "You will stop this bullshit." SMACK. "You will give respect because you get it." SMACK SMACK. "You will not drink unless you ask and we allow you to." At this point Sam began to really give her the full effect of his punishment. It was meant to sting her ass and make her remember what he said to her. "You will NEVER tell me to fuck off again, little sister do you understand me?" Her ass was on fire, he spanked her just where she would feel it when she sat. A memory - to never have to repeat again hopefully.

Krissy was sobbing and clinging to his calves. She couldn't move because she had kicked out at the start and he placed her legs under his thigh. She had never experienced such discipline. Her cheeks were burning from humiliation and tears.

"I have had enough of your tantrums and yelling." He gave her two more swats to emphasize his point. He held her there for a minute, letting her catch up with the spanking she didn't even know she needed or wanted. "Do we understand each other now, Krissy?"

She tried to answer him but she was crying and couldn't get a breath. He heard her squeak out "Yeees, yes, Sam we understand now. I'm so sorry, Sammy." She was sobbing and talking and shaking. He lifted her up, carefully making sure her behind hung through the spot he made between his thighs. She clung to him, babbling about how horrible she was and how ungrateful she knew she looked. She had taken her head and hid it inside his flannel while she sobbed onto his tee shirt. She wouldn't stop saying sorry. She was going to throw away all her pink stuff to atone. Sam grinned – he couldn't help it. She was close to hysterical and he heard her wheezing.

"Tink, get your head out of my shirt! You're suffocating yourself."

She pulled her head out like a little turtle, still wheezing and eyes swollen with tears. Her breath hitched and he brought his hand, now as gentle as could be, across her cheek and pressed her to his shoulder. "Shhh, shhh, pixie it's over. It's all over and forgiven, understand?"

She hiccupped and he gave her some water to sip. She took it gratefully and drank. Still, he could feel her heart pounding and her shoulders shaking. He rocked her and told her about when he was a little boy and how it was for him. How he didn't have anyone to hold him after a spanking, and how he promised himself if he ever had children of his own, he would always hold them and talk to them after.

"Sammy?"

"Yep."

"Do you and Dean…. Do you ever wish I had never called that day? The day you came to my house? Do you ever wish you weren't my brother/guardian/dad person? It's okay if you do. I probably would. Especially to me."

He kept rocking her, not making a big deal out of what she said, because he knew she was looking for a big reaction. He just kept rocking her and told her "Hush, Tink… never. Never for one minute." He ran his hand up and down her back and up into her hair, which was definitely not slicked back anymore. He hated that look on her so he was glad to see it gone. "Love you Sammy, I'm so sorry," she said and started to cry again.

"Okay, okay Gus, shhh…calm down…I love you too. Always. And always so much that I will smack your ass if you get out of line, ok? That's the way it has to be." He had turned her to carry her into her bedroom and stood easily with her. "Owwww, Sammy it hurts!" She started to cry again.

"Shhhh..hush….it's supposed to hurt, silly girl. It wouldn't be a big brother spanking if it didn't."

"Am I still your Pixie and Tinker and Gus and Brown Eyes?" she asked him sleepily. He could tell he had scared her with his "Little Sister" and "Krissy" talk. Good.

"Oh, hush up – of course you are. You always will be and more. You will always be my girl," he said comfortingly.

"Now you're gonna take this Advil, and a nap. I'm gonna show you a few ways to lay that will make it hurt a little less. I'm getting you some shorts to put on."

"M'Kay, Samson," she said agreeably.

Sam brought her a washcloth to wipe her face and pulled down the shades. He helped her off with her tights. She really had no shyness with him, probably because he had done so much work on her medically. And she trusted him – he knew that. He slid her shorts up, trying to be careful as possible. She whimpered into her pillow. His heart clenched but he held true.

He wanted her in shorts because he wanted to peek to be sure he hadn't spanked her too hard. He felt he knew the line with her, but just needed a little reassurance… he was a little rusty in the spanking department. He was relieved to see her rear end was definitely a bright red but he left no kind of mark on her. He wasn't sure what he would have done if he had seen any.

He helped her lay on her side and she wanted him to stay so he did. She leaked tears but the hysterical crying had stopped and he would occasionally offer her water and she would drink it. She reached out for his hand and held on to his index finger until it slipped out lightly as sleep overtook her.

She had called him her brother/guardian/dad, and he felt like one. HER one. Nobody could ever take that from him or her. Gus hated her spanking, but she knew she deserved it and Sammy knew that in some way, she wanted him to draw the line with her. He was the first man in her life that showed her anything near a parental love. Sam thought what he got back was so much more. He got his Pixie. He would protect her forever.


	12. KM P2 AN

A/N: Hi guys! I've updated the summary for Part 2, so take a look. I don't have a block or anything; this story has just taken a life of its own on me and I feel like … I feel like, even as much as Sam and Dean want to find Martin, sometimes even in their world (or ESPECIALLY in their world) things take more time than they want. I'll be updating this weekend on Part 2. Thanks for being such good friends and giving me such great feedback. And I welcome ideas – there will be special Krissy Sisfic stories in the future (and ABOUT the future), so if you have any requests, feel free! Taking it to a 3rd part will bring out a lot of good stuff..in all of them. #AKF


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